


For Someone There Is Someone Never Coming Back

by jane_x80



Series: The Past is the Past [2]
Category: NCIS
Genre: Angst, Case Fic, Child Abuse, Child Death, Childhood Sexual Abuse, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Interviews, Light BDSM, M/M, Mild Painplay, Past Child Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Sexual Abuse, Press and Tabloids, Rape/Non-con Elements, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-18
Updated: 2016-07-03
Packaged: 2018-07-15 14:47:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 70,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7226740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jane_x80/pseuds/jane_x80
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony and Gibbs return to work a few days after their wedding. However their regular work schedule is disrupted when the news of their marriage becomes publicized and public knowledge. They are asked to do interviews as a married couple, representing NCIS. Tony has real issues with losing his privacy. The team has to cope with solving cases with reporters riding along with them. In the midst of this, a difficult case crops up, causing more issues for Tony, given his childhood trauma and abuse, and he and Gibbs have to deal with this together.</p><p>This story begins a few days after Tony and Gibbs' wedding in <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/5269547">The Past is The Past (Until It's Not)</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to my first long fic, and it is also a pretty long story. I would strongly recommend reading [The Past is The Past (Until It's Not)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5269547) first, before reading this. It can stand on its own and you can still figure out what's what, I think, but I believe you'd get more out of this story if you knew what happened in the first one.
> 
> Also, this is my first fic with artwork. Many many thanks to [penumbria](http://archiveofourown.org/users/penumbria/pseuds/penumbria) for her awesome artwork! Thank you so much! :D
> 
> The title comes from a line in the Indigo Girls' song [Winthrop](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pHR_A73Upr8) which is one of the songs I listened to while writing this.

Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs and Special Agent Anthony D. DiNozzo Jr stride out of the elevator onto the squad room floor at 0800 on Wednesday morning, DiNozzo a half a step behind his boss, in his customary position. Tony’s sunglasses are perched on his nose and they each carry a cup of coffee in one hand. In the bullpen, Bishop and McGee are already at their desks.

Gibbs sits at his desk, answering their good mornings with his customary grunt and Tony smiles and wishes his teammates good morning cheerfully, as he stows his backpack under his desk and his badge and weapon in a drawer.

He sighs as he sits down in his chair and fires up his computer. While waiting for it to boot up, he looks through his mail, noting quite a few envelopes containing cards. He opens one and finds it to be a congratulatory card with an enclosed gift card. It is from one of the FBI agents that he worked with a couple of years ago. The rest of these cards must be of the same nature, he decides. He looks over, catches Gibbs’ eye and quirks an eyebrow, holding up a couple of the cards.

Gibbs nods and holds up a couple of cards on his end. An amused half smile teases at Tony’s lips and he gathers all the envelopes with cards and stuffs them into his backpack to be opened later. Gibbs brings his pile and dumps it onto Tony’s desk, and the younger man adds that to his backpack as well.

Gibbs returns to his desk and Tony begins going through his email. This is about the only sign that Gibbs and Tony have returned to work almost immediately, having only taken Monday and Tuesday off after their wedding the previous Saturday. McGee and Bishop stare at the two men for a minute, but seeing no sign that either was going to discuss their spectacular wedding celebration, they settled in to begin business as usual.

McGee scrutinizes Tony and thinks that he looks well rested and calm. His mind shies away from what Tony must have been up to in the past few days, since that would entail imagining his Boss in a compromising position as well. Or many compromising positions. 

Stop it, Probie! McGee tells himself. Then he is appalled that he mentally addressed himself as Probie. He shakes his head silently. Tony has trained him too well.

Seriously, one did not try to imagine things about the feared leader of the MCRT. Although anybody who had been present on Saturday wouldn’t have needed to imagine much and would have gotten quite an eyeful in person. Last McGee remembered (he did get plastered at the amazing limitless open bar at the wedding reception), Tony had been practically undressed in Gibbs lap, and sucking face like horny teenagers. Gibbs’ hands had been all over Tony’s body and in Tony’s pants. Tony and Gibbs definitely had a very healthy sex life and Gibbs seemingly had very few reservations about PDAs outside of work.

Bishop surreptitiously peeks at Gibbs, who does not seem any different. He has the same scary glint in his eye, same ubiquitous cup of coffee, same demanding attitude. Her eyes flick over to Tony – he seems relaxed and centered.

“Tony?” she walks up to his desk, knowing that she was risking Gibbs’ wrath. “Did you have a good time at your wedding?”

Tony looks up, a joyful grin on his face. “Yep! We really have to do something for Ducky and Abby to thank them, and you guys too of course. I know you guys helped out a lot. But yeah, I really had a great time.”

“Can’t believe you guys didn’t go on a proper honeymoon yet.”

Tony brushes it off. “Vance promised the team the whole week of Thanksgiving off. We’ll go on our honeymoon then.”

“Sure had a good rest of the weekend in the honeymoon suite,” Gibbs chimes in, standing right behind Bishop, making both Tony and Bishop jump. He winks naughtily at Tony, who blushes, muttering under his breath about sneaky sniper Marines. “Didn’t leave it until check out yesterday afternoon.”

Tony’s face flames with embarrassment. Yes. He and Gibbs had had an excellent time at the wedding, and after the wedding, they had stripped each other of their tuxedoes and remained naked until checkout, pretty much existing on room service, TV and sex. And not necessarily in that order.

“I love that I can still make him do that,” Gibbs tells Bishop, patting Tony’s flushed face gently. “Heading up to MTAC.”

Tony and Bishop watch as Gibbs sprints up the stairs and Tony catches himself eyeing Gibbs’ ass as he leaves. He clears his throat and tries to get his blush back under control.

Bishop waits until Gibbs has disappeared upstairs before she turns back to Tony. “Sounds like you had an excellent time even without going away going away,” she grins at him, as always commenting gently without being unkind.

“Yes. Yes we did, thank you, Bishop,” he says in an almost normal voice. “Let’s get back to work, shall we?”

But the minute that MTAC doors close behind Gibbs, Balboa and a few others crowd over to Tony’s desk, congratulating him on his marriage, and gushing about the wedding festivities. Finally Tony has to laughingly insist that everyone get back to work and to thank everyone for their well wishes.

“It really was a great event, Tony,” McGee tells him, wheeling his chair over.

“Abby and Ducky get all the credit for that,” Tony grins. “And to think, we almost got away with being married over lunch, if not for those two.”

“How come you never told us what a great musician you were, Tony? All these years…”McGee sounds both put out and admiring.

“It was never relevant to our line of work, McGeek.”

“But you’re like, really good, Tony.”

“Yeah,” Bishop chimes in, “you really are.”

“You’ve known I had a piano for years, McGee. But Saturday night was an exception. I don’t play for other people,” Tony’s voice is gentle but final. “Did you two get anywhere with cold cases while the Boss and I were out?”

“Not really, Tony.”

“Let’s get back to it then.”

After Tony finishes going through his email, he tells McGee and Bishop that he’s headed down to see Abby and detours to pick up a Caf-Pow on his way there.

Abby is ecstatic to see him, launching herself into his arms and almost knocking him over. Luckily he manages to place the Caf-Pow on a table before it spills. After catching up with Abby for a few minutes, he goes back to the bullpen and starts on cold cases himself.

“Grab your gear,” Gibbs calls as he runs down the stairs.

“What do we got, Boss?” Tony throws Bishop the keys to the van as he grabs his gun, badge and backpack.

“Dead marine at Rock Creek Park. Possibly a suicide. Call Ducky.”

Tony dials Ducky as he hurries after Gibbs.

At the crime scene, Tony relaxes into the familiar activities – McGee photographs while Tony sketches, and Bishop bags and tags. It does seem to be a suicide but, as always, they will investigate and assume nothing.

They speak to witnesses while Ducky and Palmer complete their work and bag the body. And they proceed to work the case thoroughly, as is their usual MO. The investigation turns out to be a quick one – Ducky is able to confirm that it was a suicide and by the afternoon, the team is working to finalize their reports. Gibbs dismisses them before 1900 which is early for the MCRT.

Tony messes with his phone, playing games, as he waits for him to be finished with his final meetings with Vance before they leave together. When they are safely in Gibbs’ Challenger, they smile at each other and Tony proceeds to kiss Gibbs thoroughly.

“How was your day, gorgeous?” Gibbs asks him.

“Not bad. How was yours, babe?”

Gibbs grunts an answer, pulling him back into another thorough kiss.

They pull apart, grinning. “Let’s go home,” Gibbs growls at him. “You’re wearing way too much. I missed having you all to myself today.”

“You have me all to yourself now, babe.”

“Did I tell you how much I like that suit on you? And how much I’m looking forward to taking it off of you?”

They decide to spend the night at Tony’s apartment. Long bout of shower sex, followed by Chinese food and then a rare, early night.

In the morning, while Tony has his lips wrapped around Gibbs’ hard cock, Gibbs’ phone rings.

“It’s Vance,” Gibbs pants as Tony sucks on his cockhead. Tony frowns – it is 0500 and if Vance is calling them that early, it is not good news. He releases Gibbs’ cock as Gibbs answers his phone. “Yeah, Gibbs,” he barely stifles the gasp of disappointment at the loss of Tony’s warm wet mouth around his dick.

“Sorry to disturb you so early, Gibbs, but you and DiNozzo need to come in ASAP,” Vance tells them.

“What’s going on?”

“I don’t want to say over the phone.”

“We’ll be there as soon as we can. DiNozzo, call McGee and Bishop.” Tony starts to reach for his phone.

“Negative. I’m afraid this concerns only you and Agent DiNozzo.”

Gibbs stops Tony, hangs up and glares at his phone. “Vance wants to see us ASAP. But just us.”

“I’m guessing he didn’t say why?”

Gibbs shakes his head. They stare at each other for a long moment before Tony shrugs and takes Gibbs cock deep into his throat.

“Fuck, Tony!” Gibbs gasps. Tony begins bobbing up and down, rolling his balls with one hand. “We don’t have time for this, oh god yes there,” Gibbs’ breaks off when Tony slips a finger into his hole, finding his prostate and brushing it. Tony works on the combination of sucking, licking, rubbing quickly. The pleasure is exquisite and he expertly brings the older man to the edge, and he shoots cum down Tony’s throat with a strangled scream.

Tony crawls up his husband’s body, kisses him hard, letting Gibbs suck the taste of his own cum off his tongue, and then, giving him his thousand-watt shit eating grin, pads naked into the shower. Gibbs scrambles into the shower after him when he comes off his high.

“We have unfinished business,” he growls in Tony’s ear, reaching around his body for his still hard cock.

“I thought you said we didn’t have time,” Tony teases.

“Vance can wait,” he turns Tony to him, and they kiss – tongues dueling, devouring each other, while his hands stroke Tony’s cock. Then he turns and presses his hands to the wall, wiggling his ass. “Fuck me, Tony. I need you this morning.”

“Are you sure we have time for this?” Tony whispers huskily into Gibbs’ ear, making him shiver. He fingers Gibbs’ ass, readying him quickly. Gibbs moans when Tony enters him in one smooth motion, bottoming out.

“Fuck me hard, Tony. Now,” Gibbs demands.

“As you wish,” Tony breathes into his ear and begins pounding into him. He finds Gibbs’ prostate and begins rubbing against it with every stroke and before long Gibbs finds himself close to orgasm again. He begins fisting himself, pushing back against each of Tony’s thrusts until he goes over the edge, painting the wall, and his body contracting around Tony pushes him into coming, spilling deep in Gibbs’ body.

“Buttercup, I’m not a princess,” Gibbs pants, kissing Tony fiercely, “but I guess I’m kind of your bride.”

“Did you just get one of my movie references, Jet?” Tony says, shocked.

Gibbs smirks and kisses him in response. Breathless, they wash each other quickly, shave, and are on their way to the Navy Yard with to go cups of coffee within the hour.

Vance is waiting for them in the bullpen – it is pretty empty since it is not even 0630.

“What’s going on, Leon?” Gibbs asks him.

“My office.”

The three troop upstairs to Vance’s office.

“We have a bit of a situation,” Vance tells them without preamble. “It seems the press has gotten wind of your wedding and are running with it,” he hands them a copy of the newspaper. On the front of the Society section is a large picture of Gibbs and Tony walking down the aisle together, both elegantly dressed in Armani tuxedoes.

“What’s the big deal?” Gibbs growls. “It’s over. It’s back to work, as usual.”

“Not quite…”

“Crap. I’m being sent to be an Agent Afloat again, aren’t I?” Tony buries his face in his hands. “I seriously cannot do that again, Boss.”

“Nobody’s sending you away again, DiNozzo,” Gibbs tells him, glaring at Vance. “You better not try that, Leon.”

“No, no more Agent Afloat,” Vance agrees. “The thing is the SecNav and the SecDef both think that this is good publicity, on a non-casework level. They think it humanizes the NCIS.”

“Gibbs _humanizes_ NCIS?” Tony starts laughing helplessly. “Boss, you hear that? You’re humanizing us! Bet you never thought you’d hear that.”

Headslap.

“Thank you, Boss,” Tony contains his laughter, although his green eyes sparkle with mirth. “So what? Why are we in here early this morning? Give it a couple of days and all this will blow over and we’ll be back to being regarded with ‘What’s NCIS?’ or ‘You misspelled CSI’.”

“The SecNav and the SecDef both feel that they don’t want this to blow over quickly.”

“What does that mean?” Tony is immediately suspicious.

“Here’s the thing. They want you to give an interview.”

“An _interview_?” Gibbs says the word as if it is an obscenity. “What about?”

“About being married.”

“I’ve been married before, nobody interviewed me then,” Gibbs growled.

“Gibbs…”

“Just because we’re two men married to each other, is that what this is about?” Tony glares at Vance. “It’s not supposed to affect work. That is how we function – we separate work and non-work. This right here, this crosses that line. I have a real problem with that. Not to mention, how the hell am I ever supposed to do any undercover work if my face is plastered in the papers? And Gibbs has enemies. I have enemies. We cannot be running around showing our faces in the media as if we’re D-list celebrities!”

“I said all this to both the SecNav and the SecDef but they are adamant. They want you to do this interview,” Vance sounds very apologetic.

“No,” both Gibbs and Tony say firmly.

“If you’ll excuse us, Director,” Tony says politely as he and Gibbs stand.

“SecNav thought you would react this way. She’s expecting us at MTAC now.”

“Fuck it, we should have just gotten married over our lunch break as originally planned,” Tony grumbles as they follow Vance to MTAC.

“Gentlemen,” the Secretary of the Navy Sarah Porter greets them with a smile when they are connected at MTAC. “Congratulations again! Thank you for inviting me to your wedding. It was really fun. Special Agent DiNozzo, I didn’t get a chance to commend you on your musical abilities. That was impressive! Apologies for getting you in so early this morning, and so soon after your wedding. I presume Director Vance has told you what we would like for you to do?”

“Yes, he has. We said no,” Gibbs tells her succinctly. “Good morning, Madam Secretary.”

“Special Agent Gibbs, both the Secretary of Defense and I feel like this is good publicity for NCIS, as well as the armed forces in general.”

“Um, Madam Secretary, there’s a reason why Gibbs does not speak to the press,” Tony chimes in. “It never goes well. This is a bad idea, ma’am.”

“I am aware of Special Agent Gibbs’ reputation and past experiences with the press,” Porter tells him. “I am hoping that when he speaks about you and his relationship with you, Special Agent DiNozzo, that he can be open and honest. Agent Gibbs, you were practically charming at your wedding on Saturday.”

“That was a private event, ma’am. This interview will not be. I am not comfortable speaking about my private life this way,” Gibbs glares at her.

“Then let Agent DiNozzo be his usual charming self and you can just sit there and glare at everyone.”

Tony grins and quirks an eyebrow at Gibbs. The older man sees that Tony was finding it humorous that the Secretary of the Navy had just referred to him as charming, and glares a wordless response at him. Tony lets the look roll off his back with a tiny smirk.

“Gentlemen, you are both doing this interview. The television station is expecting you at 0900 today to do a live section on their morning show.”

“Wait a minute! This is a television interview? Are you _crazy_? _Live television_???” Tony gapes. “This is a terrible idea. Not just will Gibbs say things out of context and have the worst soundbites ever – sorry Boss, but you know I’m right – but it will be on live TV. Unedited. Uncut. Oh god. This is a disaster. Not to mention you are outing me forever.”

“Outing you?” Porter raises her eyebrows. “You married Agent Gibbs, Agent DiNozzo. I don’t believe I’m the one outing you.”

“No ma’am, of course not, not outing me that way. I mean that you’re outing me work-wise. How will I ever do anymore undercover work? Not to mention I have several still-active and useful undercover personas and contacts that I might need in the future and this will jeopardize that.”

Secretary Porter purses her lips and nods. “I understand your concerns, and Director Vance brought this subject up when we discussed this with the SecDef. We believe that this will be a calculated risk, and you will have to give up undercover work for the next few years.”

“But ma’am!” Tony sputters.

“That might not be such a bad idea, DiNozzo,” Gibbs says softly.

“Boss?” Tony’s eyes are wide. “I like going undercover. I’m good at it. I’m the best undercover operative that the NCIS has.”

“Perhaps the best in all the agencies in DC,” Vance chimes in.

“You are,” Gibbs agrees, “but it doesn’t mean I like it when you go deep undercover. Might be nice to not have to worry about you doing that for a while.”

Tony’s eyes grow steely, his eyes flashing in anger. “What are you saying to me?” he asks softly, his tone dangerous.

“Gentlemen,” Porter interrupts. “These are your orders. You will go and represent NCIS. A car will be there to pick you up at 0800 and you will do this interview. Special Agent Gibbs, try not to say anything damaging. Special Agent DiNozzo, don’t do anything stupid and don’t let your husband do anything stupid either.”

“You think I’m going to be able to stop Gibbs from doing things?” Tony shakes his head.

“You have your orders. Good luck. The SecDef and I will both be watching this morning. Do not disappoint us.”

The connection is cut. Tony, Gibbs and Vance stare at each other for a minute.

“This is a bad idea, Leon,” Gibbs growls, “a very bad idea.”

“I agree with you, Gibbs,” Vance snaps, “believe me, I do. But we have all been vetoed. You heard the lady. You have your orders, I have mine. We follow them.”

“I can’t believe you don’t want me to do undercover ops, Boss,” Tony says sadly. It is one of his favorite things about the job, slipping into somebody else’s shoes, somebody else’s life. He hasn’t had to go deep undercover in a year or so, but to have the whole thing yanked out of his grip completely makes him ridiculously sad.

“It’s not that I don’t want you do to it, DiNozzo. I just said it would be nice not to have to worry about you doing that for a while. It’s always hard on the team when you’re undercover, you know that.”

Tony nods tightly.

Vance sighs. “I am sorry about this. This was not my idea. But if you want to rethink what you’re wearing for this interview, I suggest you do something about it now and be back here by 0800 where the car will pick you up to take you to the studio.”

Tony blows out a frustrated breath. “Ah, fuck. Now I gotta keep you from getting us in trouble with the press, _and_ I gotta dress you nicely too, Boss?”

Gibbs glares at him but doesn’t have the heart to give him a headslap. “Let’s go,” he takes Tony’s arm and they immediately leave. They stop by to pick up one of Tony’s favorite suits from his apartment and go to Gibbs’ house where Tony picks out the suit that he bought for Gibbs a couple of weeks ago. They dress quickly and take a moment to admire each other.

“At least we’ll look good doing this,” Tony says unenthusiastically. “I feel like we’re going on the Titanic now.”

Gibbs takes the younger man in his arms and kisses him soundly until he is boneless and breathing hard. “You be your ‘usual charming self’,” he quotes the SecNav, “and try not to charm the pants off the interviewer, will you?”

Tony sighs. “I hate this. I hate that now I know you don’t want me to do undercover work, and after this I won’t be assigned them anymore.”

Gibbs kisses Tony thoroughly again. “I’m just a selfish bastard, love. I don’t ever want to put you in danger without me being on your six at all times. When you go undercover I don’t sleep. I didn’t sleep before we were involved, and now that we’re married, I don’t even know how I would function with you in danger 24/7 like that.”

Tony leans his forehead against Gibbs’ and looks deeply into those beloved blue eyes. He sighs. “I understand, babe. I just hate that this is out of our hands completely.”

“I know. Me too.”

They stand in each other’s arms, allowing their touch to calm them, breathing in each other’s scents.

“We better go,” Gibbs tells him. Tony mutters in Italian under his breath as he allows himself to be pulled back to the car.

They drive back to the Navy Yard in silence.

“You know that the SecNav is counting on you to be the charming one, right?” Gibbs half teases him. He knows that he has hurt Tony’s feelings when he sided with the moratorium on Tony’s undercover work.

“She shouldn’t have taken things out of our hands if she wanted us to make a good impression,” came the grumpy response as Tony keeps his eyes forward, refusing to meet Gibbs’ eyes.

Gibbs reaches over and takes Tony’s hand. “Don’t be mad at me, Tony,” he says softly.

“I’m not. Kind of,” Tony blows out a breath before he looks at Gibbs. Gibbs sees hurt, confusion and indecision in his green eyes. “I know it’s not your fault, and I guess I understand where you’re coming from, that you don’t want me to do undercover work anymore. But I just wish that we could have talked about it first. And decided together. Instead of this. And I know that it’s not true, but I feel like you sided with Porter against me on this.” He averts his eyes. A few short months ago, they would never have had this kind of honest and open dialogue, but he has promised Gibbs not to hide himself or deflect as much as he possibly can. So here he is, being honest.

“I’m sorry that it came across like I was siding with Porter. I really wasn’t.”

“I know. I’m trying to get over it. I really am,” Tony squeezes Gibbs hand. “And you know I’ll be all charm central for the interview. No worries. How do you think we should play it?”

“I’m just going to be myself,” Gibbs says.

“Oh boy. We’re in trouble now,” Tony laughs, and Gibbs’ heart is warmed by this sound, even though he knows that they are not done discussing the whole undercover work issue.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Interview

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm hoping Gibbs doesn't come across too OOC in this chapter. I've already edited it to cut his words down quite a bit but he does have to say _some_ things. :)
> 
> Again, many thanks to [penumbria](http://archiveofourown.org/users/penumbria/pseuds/penumbria) for her awesome artwork! Thank you so much! :D

Tony and Gibbs head to the bullpen and see that McGee and Bishop have arrived. Both are taken aback by the sight of Gibbs in a sharp suit, white shirt, blue kerchief in his pocket which makes his blue eyes pop. They recognize Tony’s influence since it looks quite expensive.

“What’s the occasion, Boss? Didn’t know you had court today?” McGee asks.

“Not court,” Gibbs barks. He tilts his chin at Tony, using their non-verbal communication to tell him to explain.

“Long story,” Tony sighs. “But we have to go out for a couple of hours because SecNav ordered it. Something about making nice with the press. They got wind of the wedding and apparently it’s good publicity for NCIS.”

“ _Gibbs_ is making nice with the press?” McGee’s eyes are wide.

“I know, right? I’m so screwed,” Tony leans against his desk, head in hand. “I’m responsible for keeping us both out of trouble.”

Bishop starts laughing, and quickly stifles it when she receives the death glare from both Gibbs and Tony.

“This funny to you, Bishop?” Gibbs says menacingly.

“N-no, Boss. Well maybe a little, Boss.”

Tony surprises them by laughing, although the laughter is tinged with a little hysteria. “They think Gibbs is gonna humanize NCIS. Have they no clue who you are, Boss?”

Gibbs snorts. “I can just be quiet and let you do all the talking.”

“It’s not like an interrogation, Boss. You can’t just turn your death glare on the reporter while I talk their ears off. It’s not like we’re trying to get them to tell _us_ anything. They’re the ones asking the questions.”

“I have faith in you.”

Tony snorts at that. “I am so screwed,” he repeats sadly.

“On the plus side, you both look great,” Bishop says, trying to raise Tony’s spirits.

“Yeah, whatever. Are they here yet?” he looks at his watch.

As if on cue, Gibbs phone rings. He answers, listens for a second and curtly says that they will be right there.

“Tell me we got a case, Boss?” Tony’s eyes are hopeful.

“Nope. Car’s here for us.”

“Goddammit…” slowly he stands, shoulders hunched.

“Show time, DiNozzo. No slouching.”

As they walk to the elevator, McGee calls out, “Break a leg!” Tony flips the bird at him without even turning his head. He looks like a man walking to his doom.

The network has sent a black town car to pick them up. They sit in silence. Tony has his sunglasses on and is looking out the window and Gibbs sits next to him. Their fingers touch slightly on the seat in between them. The driver tries to make conversation but Tony seems lost in thought and Gibbs glares the poor driver into silence.

They are whisked into makeup and the host stops by to say a quick hello but doesn’t stay to chat. The two men find themselves waiting in the green room where happily they served great coffee. There are snacks but neither man eats anything. Finally they are ushered to the wings and await their entrance.

“Please welcome Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs and Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo Jr from the Naval Criminal Investigative Services,” the host, Deanna Harvey, a lovely red-head announces.

The live studio audience applauds and Tony and Gibbs walk on. Tony shakes Deanna’s hand and leans down to kiss her cheek. Gibbs shakes her hand and gives her a curt nod.

They settle down to sit on the uncomfortable sofa, across the coffee table from the host. There are mugs of something on the table, presumably for the guests but neither Gibbs nor Tony reaches for them. Neither is comfortable drinking out of a vessel that looks too convenient and vulnerable to being compromised.

“Welcome, gentlemen. Can I just ask, are you really federal agents?” Deanna asks, raking her eyes over Tony as if he were dessert.

“What do you mean?” Tony smiles back flirtatiously. His designer sunglasses are perched jauntily on top of his head and he looks much more like a model than an officer of the law.

“I mean, if you two are what NCIS looks like, maybe we should see more of you.” The audience cheers loudly.

Tony looks at the audience and flashes them a wide smile while they applaud – there are whistles and catcalls. Gibbs sits and unsuccessfully tries to tone down his glare. Already Deanna has annoyed him with her open ogling of Tony, not that he could blame her. He thought that his husband looked especially good this morning.

Tony turns his smile on the host and Gibbs sees that she visibly melts. “Well, thank you Deanna. But yeah we really are federal agents. Trained and everything. Don’t make me bring the cuffs out for a demonstration.”

“Agent DiNozzo, you can cuff me any time,” Deanna purrs.

Tony’s smile widens. “Well, I’m afraid that my husband might have an issue with that, Deanna. He’s a former Marine, kind of a scary guy? And he _is_ sitting right here.”

Gibbs turns his piercing blue eyes on Deanna, making her swallow uncomfortably.

“Agent Gibbs, you’re more the strong silent type, I take it?” Deanna tries to draw him into the conversation.

Gibbs stares at her silently. “Sure,” he tells her laconically.

“Well, the reason why you are on our show this morning is that we have been doing a series on law enforcement and the military and its attitude to gay marriage, and homosexuality in general. As mentioned earlier, Agent DiNozzo, you and your husband work for NCIS, which is kind of both law enforcement and military mixed together. And your backgrounds also combine the two. You had six years of police work prior to joining NCIS, and Agent Gibbs was a Marine?”

“NCIS is a civilian organization,” Tony’s eyes are intense and serious, “we investigate crimes related to the US Navy and the US Marine Corps. Gibbs leads the Major Case Response Team and I am his Senior Field Agent.”

“That means he’s my second,” Gibbs chimes in.

“The Major Case Response Team takes care of…?”

“Major cases,” Tony quips, “from homicides to drugs to kidnappings to terrorism. You understand that we cannot comment on any past or active investigations for security reasons.”

“And both your backgrounds imply that you are highly capable men, representing both law enforcement and the military.”

“I suppose you could say that,” Tony agrees.

“Your team has been described as ‘elite’ and ‘high performing’ by the Department of Defense, DC Metro and even the FBI.”

Tony exchanges a smirk with Gibbs. “We do OK.”

“Your solve rate is in the high 90th percentile, Agent DiNozzo.”

“Yes, it is. And we, as a team, work hard to maintain that.”

Deanna nods. “We heard some very interesting description about the personalities in your team.”

“Did you?” Tony snorts. “Did they try to describe Gibbs?”

Deanna grins. “Mostly with language that we can’t use on this program.”

“Too bad we’re not on cable then,” Tony quirks an eyebrow at Gibbs.

“And what do ‘they’ say about DiNozzo?” Gibbs wants to know.

“Very complimentary things. And mostly they prefer to deal with Agent DiNozzo than yourself, Agent Gibbs.”

Gibbs grunts while Tony’s lips twitch while he holds back the urge to snicker.

“Mostly you both are well respected and perhaps even feared in the law enforcement community,” Deanna continues.

Tony stifles a giggle at the thought of the number of local cops that Gibbs has terrorized off his cases and his crime scenes just in the past two weeks. Feared. That’s a good way of putting it.

“And now you are married to each other. How have your co-workers and your counterparts, either in other law enforcement agencies or branches of the military reacted to this?”

“Attitudes to gays in law enforcement and the military is slowly changing, I’d say,” Tony continues, giving Gibbs a smile, “and neither Gibbs nor I are new to this field. Definitely since DADT was repealed, things have become more open. Not to say there isn’t still prejudice or bad blood sometimes, but it’s definitely a whole lot better than twenty years ago when I first started in law enforcement.”

“But you are openly out and married.”

“Sure, just married in fact. Last Saturday,” Tony winks charmingly at Gibbs who cannot resist smiling back. “In our immediate circle, we’ve had nothing but love and support.”

“Mostly people think the two of us make sense. Tony’s been the constant in my life since we’ve been partners,” Gibbs smiles at the younger man.

“And you’ve been together for how long?”

“We’ve been partners for fifteen years,” Gibbs says. “Most of it platonic.”

“Really?” Deanna looks surprised. “This hasn’t been one huge romantic secret that you two have harbored all these years?”

Tony rolls his eyes. “Nope. Not a fairy tale like that.”

“So the romance part is new?”

“New. But we’ve known each other so long, it’s also not new,” Gibbs says, “it’s hard to explain.”

“Agent DiNozzo – can I call you Tony? – your reputation does precede you. You are known as quite the ladies’ man?”

Tony shrugs, the movement somehow graceful. “Busted,” he grins, “it’s no big secret. But I’d like to put out the correction that I’m formerly known as the ladies’ man. I’m a boring old married man now.”

“But the person you marry ends up being your ex-Marine partner?”

“The heart wants what the heart wants,” Tony says easily.

“Agent Gibbs – can I call you Leroy?”

“No,” Gibbs says shortly.

“You should call him Gibbs,” Tony chimes in.

“Gibbs then, OK, you’ve been divorced three times?”

“I’ve been married four times before this. My first wife died, and then as you say, three divorces. All women.”

“So this is your fifth marriage.”

“First husband,” Gibbs is implacable.

“And Tony…”

“First husband for me, too,” Tony grins.

“But you’ve never been married before this, and you freely admit that you had a certain reputation?”

“Are you trying to say that neither of us have a good track record, Deanna?” Tony’s smile is disarming, but anyone who has ever been interrogated by him would know not to fall for the wide green eyes and innocent smile. Gibbs grins, knowing that Tony is getting annoyed at this topic.

“Well, maybe that might be a little harsh,” Deanna backpedals.

“In fifteen years, despite whatever crazy stuff was going on in my or Gibbs’ personal life, the MCRT solve rate has remained the highest. One could say that our dedication to our work is what caused our other relationships to tank. Working sixteen hour days, six days a week in general and 24/7 when cases are urgent, is not conducive to a successful relationship,” Tony says quietly. “Definitely not new of any of us in law enforcement. The job always comes first. It’s hard on any relationship. Of any sort.”

“And yet you two decided to get married. Seems at odds with what you’re saying.”

“That we finally owned up to our feelings for each other is a good thing. We’ve been committed to each other through work for all this while. Now we’re committed both at work and at home,” Gibbs says. “The job can come first. We will be together regardless.”

Tony’s smile is soft and loving. “It’s the coolest part about being married to your partner and your best friend,” he admits.

The audience oohs and aahs as much at this statement as the adorable smile on Tony’s face.

“Doesn’t that mean that you’re always on the job now? And never have time off? How do you turn it off when you go home?”

“The separation is clear,” Tony responds. “Work is work. Home is home. Rules 10 and 11 helps.”

“Rules?”

“Never get personally involved in a case, and when it’s over walk away,” Gibbs says. “On my team, you work with my rules.”

“Those are the hardest rules at times,” Tony nods. “To be honest, since we got together I’ve done better separating work and home. It used to be a lot harder to leave it at work when you go home by yourself and stew on things and you can just let that eat you up.”

“We’re going to have to come back to these rules, in a bit. But I admit, I don’t understand. How is it easier now to separate home from work when you’re married to your teammate?”

“Partly it’s because I feel like I can talk about it, hash it out with Gibbs after work if need be. And I won’t have to drive across town to get his input or feel awkward about asking him for help putting things in perspective. Also, now it’s always in a different context after work. He’s not Gibbs or Boss. He’s Jethro. At work he’s the Boss and that is how we work. It’s not a democracy. But off work it’s way different.”

“So at home he’s not the boss?”

“Not like he is at work,” Tony shakes his head.

“Is it weird being married to your boss?”

“Surprisingly it isn’t. He’s the Boss at work. He’s Jethro at home. We’re really good about not letting our personal conversations color our work ones, or vice versa.”

“Especially since I don’t tend to ‘converse’ at work,” Gibbs’ grin is wicked.

“I wasn’t going to go there with a ten foot pole, Boss,” Tony chuckles. “He growls, he barks, and we all hop to it. We’re a well-oiled machine.”

Deanna thinks for a minute. “If Gibbs is the boss at work, who is the boss at home?”

“There isn’t one,” Tony shrugs, and at the same time Gibbs points to him and says “Tony is.”

“I am?” Tony says, surprised. “Really?”

“Well we always talk about stuff and make our decisions together. But you know you can talk anyone into doing anything.”

“Am I being unfair to you though? Should I be more aware?” Tony frowns.

“No, Tony. At work you never think of yourself, you’re always about the team or the case, or the victim, or hell, taking care of me. So at home I try to make it about you.”

Tony flushes with surprised pleasure and loses his train of thought.

“You guys are clearly devoted to each other,” Deanna smiles.

“Clearly,” Gibbs agrees. Tony still seems incapable of speech, and just grins happily. Gibbs takes his hand and squeezes it.

“We have some photos of your wedding. Would you mind if we showed them?”

Both Tony and Gibbs look surprised. Gibbs shrugs, a clear ‘get on with it’ message.

They both turn behind them to the big screen. The first photo is of the two of them walking down the aisle, hand in hand. Tony’s posture is perfect, his eyes startlingly green and intense, his expression serious, and Gibbs is positively beaming, his blue eyes sparkling, one hand casually in his pants pocket. The audience cheers at this photo.

“You guys are hot!” Deanna says. “This is before the ceremony?”

“Yep. We were walking down the aisle,” Gibbs tells Deanna, for the first time giving her a smile.

“I’m going to say that I don’t think either of you are wearing off the rack, and if I had to guess that would be Armani?” Deanna quirks an eyebrow.

“Tony chose the clothes,” Gibbs shrugs.

Tony leans over and whispers something in Gibbs ear, and Gibbs shakes his head and chuckles.

“What was that about?” Deanna wants to know.

“He’s complaining that the holster I asked him to wear ruined his look,” Gibbs grins.

“You were carrying? At your wedding?”

“We’re federal agents, Deanna,” Tony says drolly. “Of course we’re armed. Regulations and whatnot.”

Deanna blushes. The thought of both of the men, armed and dangerous, is quite appealing. “I don’t see your weapon in this photo, Tony.”

“Under my arm – you can see the bulge? Jet made me wear my shoulder holster. Don’t ask. I prefer the belt holster. But he asked so nicely, and gave me good incentive to go with the shoulder holster,” Tony purses his lips, a deep dimple creasing his right cheek. “But the line of the jacket is ruined by it.”

“To my untrained eye, your lines look flawless,” Deanna tells him.

Tony quirks an eyebrow, choosing to ignore the flirty tone. “Well at least Jethro looks awesome. Doesn’t he? That smile,” he grins at his husband, “you definitely do not see that smile at work.”

“I try to reserve it for special occasions. And for you,” Gibbs tells him, causing Tony to flush attractively again.

“Let’s look at the next photos,” Deanna cannot help but smile at the two men. The next photo is of them exchanging rings. Then a photo of their wedding party – Abby, McGee, Tony’s frat brother Steve, Ducky, Morrow and Fornell flank them, all of them grinning happily. In the next photo, Tony and Gibbs are in profile, arms around each other, smiling at something off camera, the setting sun behind them and Tony seems to be bathed in a golden glow.

“Where did you get these photos?” Gibbs wants to know. “This is a good one. The sun looks like it’s spotlighting Tony.”

“We can’t divulge our sources, I’m afraid, Agent Gibbs. But we’d be happy to provide you copies of these photos for your enjoyment.”

Gibbs grins at her, “Thank you.”

“We also have some photos of you two in action throughout the years.”

“No!” Tony says, appalled.

They flip through a few photos – some dating back almost fifteen years. Tony and Gibbs standing together at crime scenes with their NCIS regulation caps and windbreakers. Tony and Gibbs wearing bulletproof vests and old-style comms with over the ear earpieces and attached microphone reaching down to their mouths, weapons drawn, oozing testosterone. Tony and Gibbs clinking beer bottles at a long-past office Christmas party. Tony making a silly face at the camera while Gibbs frowns at him in the bullpen. And quite a few others that neither Tony nor Gibbs had ever seen before.

“Where did you get these?” Tony wonders.

“If I told you, I’d have to kill you,” Deanna says seductively.

Green eyes lazily gaze at her, one eyebrow quirked. Obviously, Tony is unimpressed by the threat.

“I carry a picture of Tony that he doesn’t even know about,” Gibbs admits.

“You do? No!” Tony says with disbelief.

Gibbs pulls out his wallet, thumbs through it, and behind the photo of Shannon and Kelly is an old dog-eared and slightly faded photo of Tony. He shows it to Deanna who holds it up for the cameras, and the photo is instantly displayed on the screen behind them. The photo is of Tony from the waist up. He is wearing a dress shirt, top three buttons open, chest hair peeking out, no tie or jacket, his service weapon in a shoulder holster, and his dark hair longish, tips sun-bleached almost blond. His expression is thoughtful, lips pursed, dimples exposed, eyes brilliantly green looking into the camera.

“How did you…?” Tony stares at Gibbs in surprise.

“I have my sources, too,” Gibbs says smugly.

“That’s from what, 2003?” Tony is amazed. “How long have you been carrying that?

“Since 2003.”

“No! Even through your hiatus? Mexico?”

“Even through that.”

“Aw, Jethro,” Tony’s voice is soft, touched by this revelation. “I can’t believe you did that.”

“You have been through a lot together, seems like.”

“We have,” Gibbs says softly. “Not all of it good. But we made it. Why he didn’t leave me long ago I don’t know.”

“I understand you’ve turned down promotions and other job offers, Tony?” Deanna turns to him. “For someone who was the youngest to gain his detective badge at Baltimore PD, that doesn’t sound quite like the same person.”

Tony smiles. “I’m still at NCIS today because of Gibbs. Let’s just say I’m high maintenance and difficult to keep occupied at work, and Gibbs is just about the only one who can stand me.”

“Nothing good comes easy,” Gibbs agrees.

“More importantly, the work matters,” Tony turns serious, “what we do is important. Giving victims and their loved ones closure is important. In order to be able to move forward from a tragic event, knowing the how and the why might be key. To know that justice will be served – well, we can’t stress the importance of that. The MCRT is the best at this. Working with Gibbs has given me everything that I want. No promotion can give me that kind of satisfaction. I’m Gibbs’ Senior Field Agent for as long as he’ll have me.”

“See why he deserves to be spoiled at home?” Gibbs speaks to the audience, and they cheer. “Best thing I ever did was to steal him from Baltimore PD. They didn’t even know what they had.”

Tony grins at him, cheeks flushing again.

“We have two short video clips.”

“Video?” Tony and Gibbs share a concerned glance. “What kind of video?”

“Short clips from your wedding reception. Don’t worry. It’s great stuff.”

They roll the clip. Tony appears, his shirt halfway unbuttoned, hair mussed, lips kiss-swollen, looking as if he has just had sex. He is holding a guitar and jamming with the live band, singing _Life is Wonderful_ by Jason Mraz. The studio audience goes wild.

They cut to the next clip. Tony is still sexily disheveled, perhaps a few more buttons undone, broad expanse of his tanned, slightly hairy, muscled chest exposed, and he is sitting at the piano, eyes closed, singing _The Luckiest_ by Ben Folds. The studio audience eagerly laps this up, and the applause and cheers are deafening.

“Seriously, are you sure you are a federal agent?” Deanna asks Tony when the studio audience finally calms down. “Those performances were practically professional. Do you moonlight as the lead singer for a band?”

Tony’s ears are pink, his eyes wide. He looks at Gibbs, who takes his hand. Gibbs can see that Tony is unraveling. For all of Tony’s outgoing bluster and attention seeking behavior, he never plays music for an audience and he’d made the exception at their wedding. His performance had been Tony without any masks. And now it’s on TV and broadcast to everybody. For Tony this would be a nightmare and Gibbs is not looking forward to its aftermath.

“And what about you, Agent Gibbs? Do you also hide some other wonderful talent, like your husband’s?”

“I think we would like to know where you got those clips, Miss Harvey,” Gibbs says, suddenly dangerous. “That was a private event. Photos are one thing. Videos are another. Tony and I are private people. This is not acceptable.”

Tony’s cell phone rings and he holds up one finger to Deanna as he answers, speaking quietly. When Deanna tries to object, Gibbs tells her that Rule 3, ‘Never be out of reach’ is sacrosanct.

“Got it, McGee. Pick us up in,” he looks at Gibbs and at his watch, “ten minutes. Call Ducky? Good. Ten minutes. Thanks.”

“Looks like duty calls, Miss Harvey,” Like Gibbs, Tony has reverted to calling Deanna by her last name. “Thank you for having us this morning.”

“Thank you for being here, Special Agent DiNozzo, Special Agent Gibbs. It was such a pleasure to have you both here. Dedicated officers of the law, and also dedicated to each other. Good role models.”

“We’re just living our lives, going where our hearts go, and hopefully making each other happy,” Tony says simply. “We’re not trying to make a statement or be role models or do anything special. We’re just doing our jobs and being ourselves. We’re just trying to be. Regular people.”

“Who carry guns,” Deanna purrs.

Tony smiles at her, his smile not reaching his eyes. “And we know how to use them. Ask around to see whose marksman scores are the highest,” his voice is deceptively soft, flirtatious even. But Deanna’s eyes widen, wondering if she had just been threatened by this beautiful man, and wondering if she’s aroused, intrigued, or afraid, or some combination thereof.

“Thank you for having us,” Gibbs interrupts them, seeing the look in his eye and knowing that the explosion was coming.

“It was most definitely my pleasure,” Deanna says huskily, unable to help herself, responding to Tony. When she had seen their photo in the paper, she had thought they were both attractive, and now that she has met them in person, she could not deny that they both certainly are very attractive. But there is something about Tony. In person, he is magnetic, with the kind of effortless sex appeal that most people would kill for. He must just exude pheromones, she thinks.

He looks her up and down, taking in the slightly dilated pupils, the almost imperceptible increase in respiration and the color in her cheeks. A small part of him begins cheering – even at his age and marital status he can still affect a beautiful woman. But mostly he is trying not to think about the fact that his love songs for his husband have been broadcast on live television. He plasters a grin on his face, ready to bolt.

“Also, in case you guys haven’t gotten enough of the hotness, we have one more super, super hot photo from the Special Agents’ wedding,” Deanna announces and the screen displays Tony and Gibbs in profile, passionately kissing, Tony in Gibbs’ lap, shirt unbuttoned and untucked from his pants, Gibbs’ hands disappearing under Tony’s clothes. The studio audience screams and whistles and hoots.

Tony’s eyes glitter angrily and Gibbs takes his hand, knowing that although Tony is all sunshine and rainbows and happy and playfully sexy on the outside, inside he is complicated, sensitive, angry and dangerous. He is slow to rise to anger but this morning Deanna Harvey has managed to push all of his buttons.

“Thank you Miss Harvey,” Gibbs shakes her hand, his eyes glinting, and he takes Tony’s hand and tugs him off the stage. They ignore the applause and the minute they are off stage, Tony yanks the mike off his jacket, throws it on the floor and viciously steps on it, crunching it under his Salvatore Ferragamos satisfyingly, to the horror of the assistant waiting for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll put links to the music in the end notes at the last chapter of this story, which is what I usually do. But if you want to check out the two songs that Tony performed at their wedding, I have those links in the end notes of the final chapter of The Past is the Past (Until It's Not).


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new case and the aftermath of the interview.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please be warned that there is mention of unhealthy/questionable coping mechanism in this chapter.
> 
> Thank you to [penumbria](http://archiveofourown.org/users/penumbria/pseuds/penumbria) for her awesome artwork! Thank you so much! :D

After the interview, Gibbs allows the assistant to take the rest of the equipment off him, but does not allow the assistant to touch Tony. Instead he himself takes the black box clipped to Tony’s belt and hands it to the waiting woman. His stage makeup is efficiently removed. But again he refuses to let anyone touch the furious Tony, letting Tony angrily swipe makeup off his own face, with Gibbs himself doing the final touches before he follows as Tony stalks outside. McGee and Bishop are waiting for them – McGee ceding the driver’s seat to Gibbs and scrambling into the back seat with Tony.

“So how was it, Tony?” McGee asks.

Tony turns cold eyes to McGee. “Fine,” he bites out and looks away, slipping his sunglasses off his head and onto his nose.

McGee meets Gibbs’ eyes in the rearview mirror and sees him shake his head almost imperceptibly. McGee understands – now is not the time to give Tony a hard time, even in jest. Having worked with the man for all these years, McGee can see that he is so angry that he is unable to mask it, and when Tony is unable to mask things, that is when he is the most volatile and dangerous. They have learned a lot about the darkness Tony hides in the past few months, and certainly he does not want to be the one to accidentally set him off. Memories of Tony’s furious roaring from the Garrett Mulroney case makes him shiver inwardly.

They drive at breakneck speed to the scene of the crime, and for once Tony is glad of the crazy driving as it fits in with his mood. Once there, he settles down, working the scene carefully with his teammates, and speaking to witnesses attentively, pushing all thoughts of the interview out of his mind. When they finally get back to the Navy Yard mid-afternoon, Tony slips to the café across the street to get coffee for everyone, and the barista – a hot twenty-something blond with a pierced lip and a nose ring – stares at him.

“You’re that NCIS agent, aren’t you?” she gushes. “I saw you and your husband this morning. God, you are even hotter in person!”

Tony smiles at her, although his eyes are cold. “Thank you,” he breathes flirtatiously at her, leaving her a tip in the tip jar as he places the cups in a cup holder to transport back to the bullpen. After he passes the cups out in the bullpen, he notices that her name (Kari with a heart dotting the i) and phone number are written on his cup. Lip curling in disgust, he stomps over to McGee, snatches the cup out of his hand, and shoves his cup into the junior agent’s face before stomping back to his desk.

“Uh, Tony, this is your coffee. It’s all hazelnutty and stuff,” McGee objects, sniffing at it.

“Shut up and drink it,” Tony says venomously, sipping McGee’s coffee. Gibbs looks at him in concern but Tony studiously avoids looking up, focusing on his computer screen instead. McGee turns questioning eyes to Gibbs, who shrugs.

They work on the case all afternoon. Luckily it is an interesting one – the death by gunshot to the head of a Petty Officer inside a windowless room that had been locked and deadbolted from the inside. No fingerprints, no clues, and more importantly, no gun has been found. Tony’s brain is buzzing with the possibilities and his inner monologue sounding very much like Benedict Cumberbatch’s _Sherlock_. They have been presented with the proverbial locked room mystery.

The team begins their usual discussion of theories about the case and Tony slips into case-solving mode, spouting movie references, even pulling out his Sherlock Holmes impression, although he chooses to go with the classic Basil Rathbone rather than the contemporary Benedict Cumberbatch. The team is in their groove and working smoothly when at 1800 Vance calls Gibbs and asks him and Tony to come up to MTAC.

McGee can see the blank mask fall into place when Tony stands to follow Gibbs. He still does not know the specifics of why Tony was so upset after the interview, so he and Bishop slip down to Abby’s lab to watch the interview and discuss this while Gibbs and Tony are in MTAC. He finds it odd that Gibbs doesn’t seem as disturbed by it as Tony. Gibbs seems more concerned by Tony’s reactions than anything else, he thinks.

In MTAC, Vance tells them that the SecNav wants a word with them.

“Gentlemen,” Sarah Porter greets them on screen. “Thank you for doing the interview this morning. I wanted to let you know how pleased the SecDef and I are with how it turned out.”

Gibbs nods in acknowledgement, but Tony remains silent and expressionless, his glittering eyes the only sign of his displeasure.

“We’ve followed our orders, and now we’d like to get back to work,” Gibbs is forced to speak since Tony doesn’t. “Thank you, Madam Secretary,” he begins to turn away.

“I’m afraid we’re not finished yet, Special Agent Gibbs,” Porter sounds apologetic.

“We did the interview. Now we’re done. What’s not finished?” Gibbs asks, glancing at Tony who remains tight lipped and expressionless.

“I’m afraid perhaps you two did too well.”

Tony blinks once and Gibbs sees the anger behind his eyes. “Please explain,” Tony says politely. Mildly, even.

“Your interview has gone viral. And the public loves you.”

“So put Gibbs on the NCIS recruiting brochure and we’re done,” Tony says dismissively. “It won’t even be his first time on the brochure. He projects the right image for NCIS.”

“It’s not that simple, Special Agent DiNozzo. It seems the videos of you singing have been viewed over a million times, just since this morning.”

Tony’s eyes turn positively stormy. “How did they even get a video of that?” he snaps. “It was a _private_ event. Most of the guests were armed with guns, not video cameras. That wasn’t taken with a cell phone. Whoever recorded that and released that footage without our permission…”

“I am afraid that my office released all the photos and videos, Agent DiNozzo,” Porter interrupts.

“Your office released all of the photos and the videos…?” Tony says slowly. “Even the last photo they showed at the interview?” his voice is quiet, stripped of all pretense of politeness.

“Even that one, Agent DiNozzo,” Porter has the grace to look ashamed. “If it’s any consolation, it’s also one of the most popular photos today.”

“ _Is_ it?” Tony’s eyes are spitting angrily. “How nice for you.”

“My office has been fielding requests for more interviews and other appearances from you two from all of the major newspapers and tv channels,” Vance says carefully.

Gibbs begins growling. “No. We’re done here.”

“I’m afraid we aren’t, Agent Gibbs. The SecDef and I are reviewing all the requests and we will ask for you and Agent DiNozzo to make several more appearances.”

Tony whirls around and stalks away wordlessly, exiting MTAC without a word.

“I think you have DiNozzo’s answer,” Gibbs glares at Porter. “This morning was enough. I had to stop him from hurting people at the end.”

“ _You_ had to stop DiNozzo? I would have thought it would have been the other way around?” Porter says, surprised.

“I’ve been married a few times, Secretary Porter. Despite all appearances, I know what it is to wear my heart on my sleeve. This is all new to DiNozzo. He’s always been in control of how he is perceived. You’ve taken that control away from him,” Gibbs tells her bluntly. “I don’t see how any of this is advantageous to NCIS. We should be known for our work, not our personal lives.”

“I understand that, Agent Gibbs. Unfortunately, this is the best positive press that we’ve received in a while. The MCRT solve rate is at its peak, better than others in the alphabet soup, and the public loves you on a personal level. You and Agent DiNozzo will obey your orders. After the Secretary of Defense and I have spoken and narrowed down our choices, we will allow you to make the final options of which appearances you and Agent DiNozzo will make.”

“You’re determined to make us do this?”

“I’m afraid you have no choice in the matter.”

“I won’t make DiNozzo do any of this if he doesn’t want to.”

“These are your orders, Agent Gibbs.”

“This is our private lives. It has nothing to do with NCIS. You can’t order us to do this.”

“On the contrary, Agent Gibbs. The fact that you and Agent DiNozzo are married and openly out is important. I realize that it is your private lives, but now that the public knows about this, you’ve suddenly become spokesmen for the LGBT community for several branches of the military and also law enforcement agencies.”

Gibbs threw up his hands. “We’re field agents! Not spokespeople!”

Porter sighs. “I understand that.”

“Do you really? If DiNozzo quits because of this…”

“I hope you’ll be able to talk him into doing this.”

“I’m not talking him into doing anything, ma’am.”

“If you don’t do more interviews now, it will look as if NCIS is trying to hide you away, Agent Gibbs,” Porter says gently. “As if we aren’t proud of you and the MCRT. Which we are. Even before your marriage to Agent DiNozzo.”

Gibbs glares fiercely at her. “This can go bad quickly,” he tells her. “They may love us now. They might hate us tomorrow. I’ll probably fuck up and say some shitty thing that everyone will be offended by. What then? We should stop this now while things are positive.”

Porter nods. “We’ll keep it to a few more appearances and then you and Agent DiNozzo can retire from the public eye. No amount of glaring will stop this, Agent Gibbs.”

Gibbs blinks and suppresses a growl, glaring at Vance when Secretary Porter severs the connection. Vance raises his hands, “It’s not my doing, Gibbs,” doing his best not to back down from the flinty stare.

“DiNozzo is not taking this well,” Gibbs growls. “This is not what we signed up for. We’re field agents, Vance.”

“I know,” Vance sighs, “I tried to stop it.”

“Try harder. You’ve tanked DiNozzo’s undercover career and put him out there in the spotlight without consulting him. Be careful of your next move.”

“Are you threatening me, Gibbs?”

“No. I’m merely making the observation that when you take control away from DiNozzo, things will not end well.” And with that Gibbs leaves MTAC.

Vance covers his face with his hands, suppressing a groan. Even when the MCRT is doing well, dealing with Gibbs is usually a minefield. He depends on DiNozzo to keep Gibbs on an even keel. If DiNozzo is unable to run interference, or in this case, if Gibbs has to run interference for DiNozzo, then this is unknown territory. He sighs, cursing the SecNav and SecDef under his breath, and wonders how this will blow up in their faces.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In the Forensics lab, McGee and Bishop watch the interview for the second time. This time they focus on Tony and Gibbs’ non-verbal reactions rather than what is being said. As Abby pointed out, at the end, Tony is livid and Gibbs is the one pulling him off camera before things escalate.

“Did Tony threaten to shoot Deanna Harvey?” Bishop’s eyes are huge.

“Yeah I think he kind of did,” Abby replies, eyes just as wide. “Also, check this out. They put out the videos of Tony singing on Saturday – which wow, wasn’t that super hot? Anyway, they have both received over half a million hits each. In about ten hours. Our boys are taking the internet by storm.”

“I don’t get why Tony’s so angry, Abby?” McGee frowns. “I mean sure his privacy was invaded. I get being upset about it. I’d be upset too. But I don’t understand why it isn’t Gibbs going ballistic, but instead it’s Tony?”

“Let’s think about what we know about Tony, McGee. Is there any part of him that he didn’t specifically allow you to know? That he didn’t decide ‘ok I trust you enough to know this one tiny true thing about me’? That he revealed carelessly? Not very many, right?” Abby said. “How are these pictures and the videos different?”

“This is the real Tony,” McGee says slowly.

“Tony with no masks,” Bishop adds.

“Exactly. Who gets to see him like that? Gibbs, that’s who. And sometimes he lets us in a little. And we’ve known him how long?” Abby purses her lips. “I’m his best friend McGee, and I didn’t know he had a thing for Gibbs all these years. He hid that from me for fifteen years. And in all that time I never heard him play the piano. Never. Not once. And believe me, I used my best moves to beg, plead, command, and demand that he play for me. And he never did. And now it’s collectively got over a million hits worldwide.”

Bishop, McGee and Abby look at each other in concern. “This is bad,” Bishop says softly.

“Yes it is,” Gibbs bark makes them all jump.

“Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs,” Abby runs to hug him. “You did great on the interview!”

Gibbs grunts and kisses Abby’s cheek. “You guys seen DiNozzo?”

They all shake their heads.

“Is he with Ducky or Jimmy?” Abby asks.

“Nope. Not in Autopsy, Interrogation, restrooms, stairwells. Not here. And not answering when I call. Find him, McGee. Track his phone.”

McGee immediately goes to Abby’s computer and begins typing furiously.

“What happened in MTAC, Bossman? Looks like more trouble than just this morning?” Abby wants to know.

Gibbs scrubs his face with his hands. “SecNav and SecDef want us to do more ‘appearances’,” he says tiredly. “Did not go over well with DiNozzo. He walked out of the meeting.”

“Oh crap,” Abby starts unconsciously signing her distress until Gibbs stills her hands.

“I just need McGee to find him and I’ll take him home and see what I can do,” Gibbs says softly.

“Is there anything that we might be able to do?” Bishop asks.

“Keep working the case. We’ll be back in the morning.”

“Boss, Tony is in the parking garage,” McGee reports. “Looks like he’s just standing there. Hasn’t moved for a bit.”

Gibbs nods his thanks, kisses Abby one last time and leaves the lab. He grabs his gun and badge and heads straight to the parking garage and relieved to find Tony leaning gingerly against his Challenger.

Tony’s face is a blank mask.

He smiles at Tony. “Hey,” he says.

“Hey,” Tony says dejectedly.

“Didn’t answer when I called.”

“Nothing to say.”

“You could have broken in and waited for me in the car.”

Tony shrugs.

“Or called a cab and left.”

“Didn’t want you to worry.”

And anyone who knew Gibbs would have been surprised at the gentleness with which he took Tony into his arms and just held him wordlessly. “Thank you,” Gibbs finally whispers in Tony’s ear. Thank you for not shutting him out. Thank you for not leaving and making him worry. Thank you for trusting him.

Tony buries his face in Gibbs’ neck, breathing in his familiar scent of coffee and sawdust, allowing it to calm him.

“Wanna go home?” Gibbs asks him.

“Yeah. I need to go for a run and get all this out.”

Gibbs unlocks and opens the passenger door first before he walks around to the driver’s side. “Cowboy steaks tonight?” Gibbs suggests as he starts the car.

Tony shrugs a wordless answer.

So Gibbs begins driving to their house. His phone rings and he answers, flouting all kinds of cell phone laws. “Gibbs.”

“It’s Tobias,” Fornell says, “caught you and DiNutzo’s interview.”

“Yeah. And?”

“Looks like he was losing it at the end there.”

“Yep.”

“He’s there with you?”

“Yep.”

“He OK?”

“Nope.”

“Oh just tell Toby I’m freaking out,” Tony tells Gibbs.

“Hear that?”

“Yeah. Emily is psyched my picture was on the morning show with Deanna Harvey.”

“That’s nice.”

“She missed the fact that DiNutzo threatened to shoot her.”

“Yeah most people will.”

“Want me to come over tonight?”

Gibbs glances at Tony. “Probably not. Need space.”

“OK. Let me know. Happy to bring dinner if you need it.”

Tony remains silent for the rest of the drive. When they get home, Tony changes into his running gear and disappears for over an hour. Gibbs goes down to the basement and works on the boat. When he hears footsteps, he gives it a minute before he goes upstairs. The steaks are marinated and he builds the fire. He hears the shower come on.

Climbing up the stairs he goes in the bathroom.

“Feel better?” he calls over the noise of the shower.

“Nope,” Tony growls back.

“Want some company?”

Tony pokes his head around the curtain. He looks troubled. “I do but I don’t think you should come in here right now. My head is just messed up. Let me finish showering and come down?”

“Sure? You know I can help you feel better,” Gibbs eyes him lustily.

Tony can’t help but grin, “After my shower?”

“OK, gorgeous. I’m going to get our steaks going.”

Some minutes later, Tony comes down, toweling his hair dry but otherwise he is completely naked. Gibbs rushes to lock the front door.

“I see where we’re headed tonight,” he grins, reaching for the bared flesh.

“I have a request,” Tony says, his tone is serious.

“OK,” Gibbs stills his hands and gives Tony his full attention.

“When I was younger, if I felt I was losing control, strangely enough one of the things that helped me is to really lose control.”

“What does that mean?”

“We’ve never really discussed this and I almost never need this. But I think I need it tonight. I don’t want to make you feel weird, but I..need this. If you can’t give this to me, I-I might have to find someone who will.”

“You’re scaring me, Tony.”

“I need you to cuff me, blindfold me, and hurt me. And fuck me.”

“Like in that _50 Shades of whatever_ movie?” Gibbs’ blue eyes are wide.

Tony’s eyes brighten, “I can’t believe you pulled that reference out, Jethro.”

“It was everywhere. Even I couldn’t have missed it.”

Tony grins, a small but genuine one. “Have you ever done this?”

Gibbs shakes his head.

“Will you do this for me?” Tony’s eyes are steady.

“How far do you want me to take it? I don’t want to hurt you. You’ve already been through enough.”

“I don’t need flogging or whipping or fancy equipment. At least not tonight. You can smack me around some. I just need to stop thinking and it’ll help if you, uh, hurt me? I need you to get creative. Is that OK?”

Gibbs tries not to react but Tony sees through him. Despite his reputation, Gibbs is gentle, especially with those that he loves.

“It’s OK, babe,” he says quietly. “I’ll find a different way. Scotch will tied me over.”

Gibbs takes Tony’s hand. “I don’t want you to find someone else to hurt you.”

“I won’t,” Tony assures him. “That’s not fair to you. I won’t do that. I promised you I’m yours. Nobody else’s. I’m sorry I even mentioned it.”

“I’m not sure I can hurt you like that, Tony.”

“I understand, babe. Let’s forget I ever said anything.”

They eat their steaks on the sofa, Tony’s only concession to his nudity is to put boxer briefs on.

“I can’t believe SecNav released all those photos and videos of us,” Tony suddenly says, breaking the silence.

Gibbs grunts his agreement.

“I just feel so – violated,” he says softly.

Gibbs immediately gathers him in his arms, making comforting noises.

“The last person to hear me play without my consent was… _him_ ,” Gibbs watches as Tony’s eyes fill with tears. Since the day they watched Garrett Mulroney’s sentencing hearing, Tony has not mentioned him again. Even though Mulroney writes to him every week, Tony has been silent about it, never even touching the envelopes, letting McGee take it away without comment. And now, his shadow has returned, making Gibbs want to hurt Mulroney, the SecNav and everyone who has ever hurt his Tony.

“I’m so sorry, Tony,” Gibbs murmurs into his ear, rocking him gently. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“He might see me on TV. He might imagine I was singing to him instead of to you.” Tony chokes on the words, feeling nauseous. “He might fantasize about me. Jethro, he could be watching me, half naked, singing love songs. He could be touching himself. God, Jethro. The songs aren’t meant for him. They’re for you. Only for you,” Tony begins breathing hard at the thought. “What do I do? How do I stop this, Jet?”

“Fuck, Tony. I’m so sorry I didn’t even think of that. I’ll call the prison and ensure that they stop letting him watch TV and pull his internet privileges until this all blows over.”

Tony closes his eyes and leans into Gibbs’ embrace, and stays in his arms for a while longer. Then he pulls away and tries to return to his half-finished dinner. Gibbs gets his phone and goes to the kitchen to make a call to the prison warden with his request before he returns to finish his dinner.

“He’s in solitary,” Gibbs tells him. “Has been for the past couple days. He hasn’t seen any of this. The Warden will keep him there until we’re done with our fifteen minutes of fame.” Gibbs makes a mental note to speak to Abby and McGee to see if they would be able to pull the videos of Tony off the internet when the hue and cry has died down.

Tony nods mutely, trying to breathe normally and slow his heart rate. It is one small positive thing. Garrett hasn’t seen the videos of him performing for Gibbs. One small positive thing that he can hold on to.

“I’m sorry, Tony. We shouldn’t have made you play for us,” Gibbs says, guilt in his eyes.

Tony shakes his head. “I wanted to,” he says softly. “I got on stage without anyone prompting me to do it for the first song.”

“But…”

“It was a private event,” Tony says bitterly. “Why would we have thought that something like this could happen?”

“I’m still sorry.”

“I’m not sorry I sang you love songs, babe,” Tony says vehemently. “I don’t regret that for one second. But if the SecNav thinks that I’m done being upset that she released the videos without our permission, she’s got something else coming. She and the SecDef will regret this.”

Gibbs nods and holds him close, nuzzling his neck comfortingly.

Finally, they turn back to their meal. When they are done eating, Tony takes their plates and cleans up before he reaches into the cabinet to pull out the bottle of scotch.

“Tony?”

Tony hums his response as he pours a whole glassful of scotch for himself and two fingers of bourbon for Gibbs.

“Are you going to find some excuse to get beaten up by a perp in the next few days?”

The younger man’s eyes flash guiltily. The thought had crossed his mind, and it wouldn’t even have been the first time he let a perp hit him as part of his self-prescribed ‘therapy’.

Tony brings the glasses over and tries to think through his reply. “Well, it would probably hurt more if I let that happen,” he answers noncommittally.

“You’ve done this before?” Gibbs sounds shocked, seeing through the deflection.

Tony sighs and gulps down some scotch, making a face as the liquid burns going down.

“You have…!” Gibbs’ eyes are wide. “How many times?” he demands. “How many times have you let a suspect or a perp beat you up, even a little, because you felt you needed pain?”

“A lot less since I met you,” Tony answers truthfully.

“Tony!” Gibbs gasps.

“I don’t like to do it,” Tony sounds so reasonable, Gibbs wants to shake him. “It’s better in a controlled environment. And of course the lack of sex used to make for interesting one night stands after that.”

“Christ, Tony,” Gibbs covers his face.

“I can’t just go to a club to get this treatment,” Tony continues, “not since I became a federal agent. I won’t give them that kind of leverage over you. And really, I haven’t needed this in at least a couple of years. It’s not like I need it all the time.”

“Fuck, Tony,” Gibbs whispers, putting a hand on Tony’s cheek.

“I told you before, I’m pretty fucked up, Jethro,” Tony whispers, averting his eyes.

“No, you’re not, Tony,” Gibbs objects.

“Have you been paying attention to this conversation that we’re having? I’m fucked up, Jet. I hear myself and I think, if I’m on a case and someone is talking to me about this, like this, that I’d definitely be calling for a psych eval.”

“You are not fucked up, Tony!” Gibbs snarls. “Come with me.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gibbs gets creative to help Tony with his questionable coping behaviors. Then a conversation, and a return to their case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please be aware that this chapter contains mild pain play / BDSM, as part of Tony's unhealthy coping mechanisms. I've updated the tags to reflect this.
> 
> Again, thank you to [penumbria](http://archiveofourown.org/users/penumbria/pseuds/penumbria) for her awesome artwork!

_“You are not fucked up, Tony!” Gibbs snarls. “Come with me.”_

He stops to get both his and Tony’s handcuffs and drags him upstairs. Growling angrily, he attaches a cuff to Tony’s right wrist and affixes the other end to the bedpost. He pushes Tony roughly onto the bed, ignoring his yelp of pain as his wrist is jerked. He cuffs Tony’s other hand to the other bedpost, positioning him spread-eagled on his back. Then he drags Tony’s underwear off, cupping Tony’s hardening cock roughly.

“Is this what you want?” Gibbs demands roughly.

“Yes,” Tony’s pupils are blown, his voice husky. Gibbs squeezes his cock hard and he moans.

He blindfolds Tony with one of his own scarves, and uses two of Tony’s expensive designer ties to secure his feet to the bedposts at the foot of the bed. Tony’s cock is hard, jutting up proudly. He stops for a moment, wondering what he is doing, but the sight of Tony, blindfolded and bound, panting with need, as if being served up to him is making his cock twitch.

He gets on the bed and kisses Tony – a hard, demanding, possessive, painful kiss – using his tongue and his teeth, biting his lower lip until it almost bleeds. Tony opens his mouth, welcoming the punishment, bucking hard when Gibbs bites him.

Gibbs takes a deep breath, steels himself, and slaps Tony’s face – open handed and carefully, so as to sting without leaving a mark. Tony bucks against his bonds again, moaning, his cock throbbing and beginning to leak.

“How do I know if you want me to stop? Do you have a safe word?” Gibbs asks him.

“Pancakes,” Tony says without hesitation, making Gibbs laugh unexpectedly.

“You couldn’t go with a color or something? Red? That’s like a respectable safe word.”

“Shut up and hit me again,” Tony retorts. “It’s just getting good.”

“ _Pancakes_? Really?”

“I’ve never safeworded anyone for annoying me but there’s a first time for everything.”

Gibbs grabs Tony’s leaking cock, “I’d say you’re enjoying this still,” he says, squeezing hard, and Tony moans.

Gibbs leans down and sucks on Tony’s cockhead and the younger man bucks against his bonds, arching his entire body off the bed. Gibbs begins kissing his way up Tony’s writhing body, stopping to suck and bite his nipples until they are red and raw. Then he blows on it and flicks it with a nail, causing Tony to groan and curse. He keeps moving up, finally reaching Tony’s collarbone and he bites hard at the sensitive flesh, biting and sucking until he knows that he will leave a mark. Tony yells in response, and he begins marking Tony’s neck, three deep marks up to Tony’s jawline, before he kisses him hard on the mouth again, seeking to bruise his lips. He yanks Tony’s hair, forcing him to give him better access to his earlobes and Gibbs pays loving attention to it while the fingers of one hand caress the inside of Tony’s thigh. He allows the fingers to dig in hard – bruising him, and Tony bucks again, panting hard.

“It’s a good thing I built this bed, gorgeous,” Gibbs whispers in his ear, “You’d be breaking any other bed with what you’re putting it through tonight.”

Tony whimpers in response, and that whimper sends Gibbs over the edge. He sheds his own clothing as quickly as he can and lies on top of Tony, kissing him hard, grinding their cocks together. “I can’t believe how beautiful you are, gorgeous,” Gibbs tells him as he bites and flicks Tony’s other nipple.

Tony begins thrusting and grinding into him. “Need to cum,” he whimpers. “Please please please fuck I need to…please...”

Gibbs slaps him again, watching in wonder as Tony begs for more, his cock leaking continuously. He grabs Tony’s hips roughly, knowing that his fingers will bruise, and grinds against him, moaning when their cockheads slip and slide against each other, lubricated by the pre-cum leaking from both their cocks. He continues this for a minute, just enjoying feeling Tony writhing under him, unable to do anything but submit, before he gets off him, grinning at the disappointed moan when they are no longer touching.

He runs down to the kitchen and fills a glass with ice before running back up to the bedroom. Tony is splayed out on the bed, panting quietly, his hard cock standing up and slapping against his belly. He watches silently until Tony begins struggling against his bonds, calling his name.

Quietly, he walks up to the bed and drops an ice cube right in the middle of Tony’s chest.

“Fuck!” Tony screams, arching his body off the bed, the cold ice contrasting with his heated skin almost painfully.

He drops more ice cubes on Tony’s chest and belly, as the younger man screams and wriggles his body against the sensations.

Gibbs puts the glass on the night stand, grabbing a couple of ice cubes, running them up the inside of Tony’s calf and thigh, starting at his ankle, making him swear and buck, the ice cubes on his torso sliding down onto the bed at his violent movement. He holds the ice against Tony’s balls as his hot mouth descends on the erect dick, sucking hard on the broad head, pressing his tongue hard against the slit. Placing a piece of ice on his tongue, he takes the cock in his mouth again, as Tony yells at the twin sensations – cold and hot on his dick.

Abandoning the ice, he scratches his fingernails down Tony’s body, scraping from shoulder to thigh, scraping his nipples hard, and Tony struggles against his bonds, moaning. He leans down and sucks and bites hard on the inside of Tony’s thighs, and Tony screams, begging for more. Gibbs reaches for Tony’s balls and roughly rubs and pulls, causing Tony to buck and arch his entire body into the air. He lubes his fingers and pushes two fingers into the bound man’s tight channel, and the pleasure and pain combination is beautiful. Tony begins keening. Unable to stop himself, Gibbs begins stroking Tony’s prostate and takes his cock deep into his throat. Tony is out of control, begging, pleading, cursing, arching repeatedly off the bed. He explodes in Gibbs’ mouth, shooting cum down his throat, screaming Gibbs’ name.

Gibbs sucks on him until he comes off his high, his body calming from the violent tremors, and keeps sucking on him until he knows that the overstimulation must be hurting him. Tony begins whimpering and thrusting into his mouth, unable to stop his reaction.

He nips on Tony’s balls, keeping his fingers moving in Tony’s body, stroking his prostate wickedly, watching how he keeps straining against his bonds, moaning in pleasure, fucking himself onto Gibbs’ fingers, even though he has not even completely come off his post-orgasmic haze. When Tony has been tortured enough, and his cock half hardens again, Gibbs removes his fingers, and Tony curses in disappointment. He wipes his fingers on the bed and slaps Tony’s face again, the sound sharp and surprisingly loud.

Tony’s cock hardens immediately. Gibbs slaps him one more time, and he grunts in pain, and his cock begins to leak again.

“I can’t believe you’re hard again,” Gibbs tells him, licking the pre-cum and taking the head of his cock in his mouth and sucking hard. Tony bucks and arches his body.

Gibbs lubes his aching dick, positions himself in between his legs, and thrusts in without warning. Tony screams and begins begging to be fucked. Gibbs begins thrusting into him, hard, painful thrusts, and Tony takes him, welcoming him. When Gibbs begins rubbing Tony’s prostate with every stroke, he begins keening again, the sound not something Gibbs has ever heard his husband make before that night.

He begins stroking Tony’s cock in time to his thrusts, twisting, squeezing, and pulling hard, knowing that he was purposely causing him pain but also knowing that Tony hasn’t used his safe word. One hand clutches at his hips, leaving angry marks as he digs his fingers in and pinches the flesh. He slaps Tony’s face one last time. With a scream Tony comes again, cum spilling over his fingers, splattering both their bodies and Gibbs thrusts a few more times before succumbing to his own climax, roaring Tony’s name, spurting his release inside Tony’s body.

When he can move again, he rolls off Tony’s now-pliant body, caressing it gently, wanting to soothe instead of hurt now.

“Tony?” he whispers.

The younger man is not responsive. Panicked, Gibbs pulls the scarf off of Tony’s eyes. His bottom lip is swollen from his kisses and bites, his cheeks a little red, and his eyes are closed. His breathing is even and regular, and his pulse is steady.

“Tony? Love? Are you OK?” Gibbs starts worrying, searching for the cuff keys and undoing them as quickly as he can. Tony’s wrists are abraded and bleeding. “Shit, Tony, talk to me. Am I going to have to call Ducky?”

Tony’s eyes open halfway, and he smiles sleepily. He hums contentedly as Gibbs puts his arms around him. “Love you,” he says, his voice broken from all the screaming. “No Ducky. I feel gooooood,” he moans dreamily. He hums again, still smiling, sighing deeply as his eyes close and he drifts off again.

Gibbs frees Tony’s legs and hurries to the bathroom, cleaning himself up and then bringing a washcloth and bowl of warm water to wash Tony’s body off. He puts antibiotic cream on Tony’s poor mangled wrists and his swollen ankles. He worries about the fact that Tony’s lip is swollen and can’t believe that he slapped Tony. Repeatedly. He glares at Tony’s angry-red nipples, and the scratches and bruises on his body, barely believing that he has put those marks on his own husband.

He sits on the bed, watching Tony with worry.

“Stop it,” Tony’s voice surprises him, “Come to bed.”

Hesitantly Gibbs crawls in next to him and covers them both with the blankets. Tony pulls Gibbs into his arms, and with great effort manages to turn his head to kiss him.

“You’re really OK?”

Tony hums, the vibrations in his chest deep. “So goooood,” he moans. “Hold me…?”

Gibbs curls his body around Tony’s – Tony is so far gone he doesn’t turn to plaster himself into Gibbs the way he usually does. Gibbs lies awake for a while, caressing Tony’s body, petting his hair and smiling at the feline purrs, slowly feeling more reassured as Tony’s breathing remains even, and his pulse steady. Tony has fallen into a deep sleep. He holds him close, trying to stop his heart from trying to jump out of his chest, until finally he puts his head on Tony’s chest and allows himself to fall asleep, lulled by Tony’s steady heartbeat in his ear.

In the morning, Gibbs jolts awake when the alarm goes off. Tony hasn’t moved a muscle all night. Gibbs sits up, scrutinizing Tony’s sleeping face. His bottom lip is swollen from his rough treatment of it, but otherwise there are no other signs of abuse on his face. The love bites are dark and unmistakable on his neck. His heart pounds at the marks that he has left on the rest of Tony’s body.

“Stop worrying,” Tony says sleepily, eyes still closed. He takes Gibbs’ hand and pulls it to his erection. “See? I’m fine. More than fine,” he moans as Gibbs’ hand moves up and down, stroking him.

He pulls Gibbs down and kisses him, stifling a hiss as his lip stings. But they kiss and nuzzle and before Gibbs realizes it, he is lying on his back and Tony’s lips are wrapped around his cock, fingers deep in his body, making him moan and gasp in pleasure. Tony pulls away, covers his fingers with lube and keeping his eyes on Gibbs, begins preparing himself. He straddles Gibbs and lubes his dick. He lowers himself onto Gibbs’ cock, eyes closing and mouth opening as his hard shaft slides in deeper. When Gibbs is fully seated, he opens his green eyes and smiles at Gibbs, a sleepy, lazy, lusty smile, until he begins moving, riding him hard, moaning uncontrollably as he adjusts the angle and Gibbs’ dick strikes his prostate. He feels his balls draw up, and the pressure build in his body, readying to climax, when Gibbs flips them so he is on his back under that hard body, his legs around Gibbs’ waist. The older man smiles down at him, thrusting in deep and stilling himself, leaning down to kiss Tony’s lips.

“Let me love you now,” he says, before he kisses and licks and soothes all the angry marks on Tony’s neck, collarbone, and his chest, before he begins to rock himself in and out of Tony in short, gentle strokes, still ensuring that he rubs Tony’s sweet spot, making the younger man gasp in pleasure. He slows down and gently kisses and licks first one then the other of Tony’s raw nipples, silently worshiping and atoning with his every move, driving Tony half-crazy with the need to come.

When he begins begging for more, Gibbs kisses him again, thoroughly but gently, and with a groan begins slamming in and out of Tony’s body. He watches Tony’s face and reactions attentively, brushing his prostate first with every other stroke, and as Tony gets closer, panting harder, cursing, moaning, begging, demanding release, he begins thrusting hard, striking his sweet spot with every move. He strokes his erect dick, in time to his deep, hard thrusts, using Tony’s reactions against him, increasing his pleasure, claiming his lips and swallowing his scream of release in a deep open mouth kiss, while Tony’s cum spatters their bodies.

Gibbs continues thrusting, trying to hold off, to feel the pleasure as long as he can. Tony convulses underneath him, still shuddering and writhing in the throes of his orgasm, muscles contracting, squeezing his dick hard. Finally, unable to hold back, he lets go and grunts harshly as he finds his release deep in Tony’s body.

Panting hard, he rolls to his side, bringing Tony with him. When they can breathe and move again, Gibbs covers his face with kisses.

“I’m so sorry I hurt you last night,” Gibbs apologizes, running his hands through Tony’s hair, smiling as his husband begins purring with satisfaction.

“Don’t be. I needed it. I really liked it,” Tony sighs. “You made me come so hard. I definitely stopped thinking after that. Can’t even remember dreaming about anything.” Unspoken, but understood by Gibbs is that Tony is thankful that he’d had no nightmares.

“I was worried afterwards. You really weren’t yourself.”

“Mmmm I was drifting. Untethered. Flying. Only connected to you. You’re my lifeline,” Tony grins at him. “I haven’t felt like that in so many years. It was nice. Don’t be sorry. I’m good.”

Gibbs nods.

Tony looks into his frowning face. “Are _you_ OK? You didn’t even want to do it…” Immediately, guilt floods his green eyes. “I’m so sorry – I made you do things you didn’t want to do.”

“I couldn’t let you let yourself get beaten up by a perp,” Gibbs admits. “I figured, if you needed to be hurt to feel better, to lose control completely, it was better that I do this to you than let you let some dangerous criminal clock you on purpose.”

“Definitely logical when you put it that way,” Tony quirks an eyebrow, grinning. “I’m sorry I put you through that though. It’s not your thing. I know that.”

“I did kind of like it,” Gibbs says softly, “only because you were so hot. So gorgeous. The sounds you made, your dick reacting when I slapped you. I can’t believe it.” His face is flaming. “I did like it, Tony. It was ridiculously good. But I don’t want to do it again for a really really long time. OK? Can we try to limit that? I can’t take that stress of hurting you. And when you weren’t speaking to me afterwards…”

Tony kisses him tenderly. “I promise. I really don’t get that way very often. Just yesterday was too much for me to handle.”

Gibbs frowns as his fingers gently caress every angry mark that he caused. “Look at you,” he says sadly. “I did this to you.”

Tony captures his hands and brings it to his lips, kissing them gently. “Stop,” he tells his husband. “I asked you to do this. Don’t blame yourself. I wanted it. I needed it. Don’t take last night away from me. Please?”

Sighing, Gibbs nods. They lie wrapped around each other, ignoring the sticky mess on their bodies.

“What is it?” Tony asks, sensing that Gibbs is holding something back.

“They want to make us do a few more of those appearances, and then we’re done, they say,” reluctantly, Gibbs tells him.

“I don’t want to do this, Jet.”

“OK. Then we won’t do it.” Gibbs holds him close, kissing his temple.

After a moment, Tony sighs. “What reasons did the SecNav give for ordering us to do more of this?” he asks softly.

“Sure you want to hear this? I told her that there is no way I’m going to talk you into doing anything you don’t want to do.”

Tony pouts. “Do you want to do this?”

“Hell, no.”

“But?”

“No buts. I’m not going to put any ideas in your head and I don’t want you to think you have to do anything to please the SecNav, the SecDef or whoever else.”

“So why don’t you want to tell me what her reasons are for asking us to do more interviews?”

Gibb sighs.

“You think I’ll agree with her?” Tony says, eyes wide.

Gibbs shrugs.

“So she has a point?”

“Look. This is our lives. And we don’t have to do this if we don’t want to. I’m not going to ask you to do something I sure as hell don’t want to do.”

“What did she say, Jethro?”

Gibbs makes a face. “That yesterday, by doing that interview so well we’ve become the de facto spokesmen for the LGBT community in some branches of the military and for some law enforcement agencies as well.”

Tony stares at him, confused. “But we’re field agents!” he objects again.

“I told her that, too.”

“What else then?”

“That if we didn’t do more interviews then it would look like NCIS wants to hide us.”

“And the public would hate NCIS for it,” Tony finishes the thought.

Gibbs shrugs.

“Fuck!” Tony mutters, sitting up and reaching for his phone. He googles their names and NCIS and is appalled at all the news articles, blog entries and other listings for them in just twenty-four hours. Their pictures are everywhere, and advocacy groups within the military and law enforcement have declared their support and, as the SecNav had said, they have somehow become figureheads for the cause. He hands the phone to Gibbs who pulls his reading glasses on and squints at it.

“Huh,” he says, handing the phone back with a frown.

Tony sits quietly, knees pulled up, arms resting on them, deep in thought.

“We can just make a statement asking everyone to respect our privacy,” Gibbs says softly. “We can tell them that we just want to resume our lives, and do our jobs. And to please leave us alone.”

Tony lets out a long breath.

“But now you think we should do a few more interviews?”

Tony turns to look at him. “I guess you really won’t have to worry about anymore undercover assignments for me,” he says softly.

“Shit, Tony. We don’t have to do this!”

The younger man scrubs his face with his hands. “If we don’t do this and show the world it doesn’t matter who you fuck or who you marry, that you can still be a soldier or a cop or whatever the hell you want to be, then I’ll feel guilty the next time I read about some cop or some marine who was discriminated against because of their sexual orientation. Or worse, if someone is hurt by some stupid bigoted incident somewhere.”

Gibbs sits up and puts his arms around his husband. “This is not on you, or on us, gorgeous.”

Tony’s eyes are sad. “Then who is it on? Someone else?”

Gibbs sighs.

“This is why you didn’t want to tell me what Porter said,” Tony grumbles. “You knew I’d think this way.”

Gibbs nods, putting his head on Tony’s shoulder and rubbing his arms soothingly. “We can’t do too many of these interview things.”

“Tell her we’ll do five. And we have final say on which five. No more. Then we make our leave us alone statement.”

“You sure about this?”

“It’s either this or sue the pants off of NCIS, the TV station, Deanna Harvey, SecNav, and whoever the hell else we can think of.”

“We could do that,” Gibbs says, perking up.

Tony grins. “Then our lives as we know it at NCIS would be over. I happen to like our jobs. And the people we work with is our family.”

“You don’t need a job,” Gibbs says, referencing Tony’s massive trust fund. “We could just quit. Do something else with our lives.”

“Told you before, I’m not going to live my life spending somebody else’s money,” Tony says, touched beyond belief that Gibbs would suggest leaving the job that has been his life for so many years. “I won’t let them drive us away from what we love to do.”

“You’re just too principled,” Gibbs tells him.

The younger man starts laughing then. “I can’t even imagine you saying those words to me in any kind of serious fashion, babe,” he chuckles softly.

“So. You’re sure this is what you want to do?”

“If you’re OK with it?”

“I don’t give a shit, as long as you’re OK.”

Tony nods grimly. “Five interviews. Then we’re done. I want it in writing.”

Gibbs grins and kisses him hard.

“And I’m not done with the SecNav or the SecDef. I’m sick and tired of being their fucking pawns.”

Gibbs nods and rubs his back soothingly. “I’m with you there.” Finally, he glances at the clock on the bedside table. “We better get ready for work, love. We still have a case to solve.”

“Ah yes, the mystery of the locked room murder,” Tony intones, ignoring the dread in his gut at what he has decided to do and trying to return to a case-solving head space. They help each other off the bed and into the bathroom to shave and shower.

While they are showering together, Gibbs looks thoughtfully at Tony. “I bet Sherlock Holmes would never use ‘pancakes’ as his safe word.”

Tony’s laughter is a welcome sound.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When they get to work Gibbs sends Tony to Abby’s lab. “She was really worried about you yesterday. Go reassure her,” he says as he steps on to the squad room floor. “Bring her a caf-pow.”

“On it, Boss,” Tony says, pressing the button for Forensics and grinning at Gibbs until the door closes on him.

Sighing, Gibbs strides to the bullpen. Neither McGee nor Bishop have arrived yet, but it is only 0700. He sips his coffee and sits, enjoying the quiet for a moment, before turning his attention to the locked door mystery.

Tony detours to pick up a caf-pow for Abby. He turns the music down and braces himself for the Abby hug.

“Are you OK, Tony?” Abby looks him in the eye, and frowns, touching his bottom lip gently.

Tony flinches and hands her the caf-pow. “I’m much better, Abby.”

“Did you get in a fight?” Abby asks him carefully.

Tony sighs. Abby knows of his tendencies. “No, Abs, no fights.”

“Then why is your lip swollen? It wasn’t yesterday.”

“Let’s just say I got what I needed last night, OK?”

Abby’s green eyes are filled with worry. “Does Gibbs know? Did you go out and find…”

“Shhh,” Tony puts a finger to Abby’s lips, and the cuffs of his shirt falls down a little, revealing the raw abrasions on his wrist. Abby grabs his hand.

“No! Tony! What did you _do_?” Abby whispers, looking around furtively.

“Gibbs knows,” Tony whispers back, pulling his sleeve over his wrist.

“Gibbs knows?” Abby is puzzled.

Tony rolls his eyes. “Gibbs _knows_ ,” he repeats impatiently. “He took care of me.”

“He took care…” understanding floods her. “ _He_ did this?”

“He didn’t want to. But he did it because I needed him to.”

Immediately Abby examines his lip, presses on his hickeys, and checks his wrists, satisfied that the shallow abrasions have been treated and left uncovered to heal quickly.

“Abby, he took care of me afterwards too. I’m in a much better place today than I was yesterday. I promise. Clear headed. And didn’t need a perp to give me a concussion to feel better.”

“How did Gibbs take it? Is it his thing? Is he going to tie you up more?”

“It hurt him to do it and he didn’t want to do it at first. Then he guessed that I would let myself get beaten up by some perp so then he said he would rather he do it than let some criminal hurt me.”

“Was he good?”

Tony closes his eyes, finding the dreamy spot from last night. “Oh yeah,” he breathes. He is silent for a moment then he opens his eyes, and gives Abby his saucy grin. “I better get back to work before the Boss headslaps me for dawdling. Love you Abs.” He drops a kiss on her cheek and runs up the stairs back to the bullpen.

When Bishop and McGee arrive, both Gibbs and Tony are sitting at their desks, deep into the case.

“Morning Tony. Morning Boss,” McGee says, watching Tony carefully.

Tony raises his eyes and looks at them “Good morning McGoo, Probette,” he flashes them a grin before turning back to his monitor, clicking through the crime scene photos.

“Um Tony, you OK?” McGee stands in front of Tony’s desk.

Tony looks up and gives McGee a small but genuine smile. “I’m better. Thanks, Tim,” and looks back at his screen.

McGee looks at Gibbs for confirmation. Gibbs blinks and nods and gestures to Tim to move to his desk. Sighing inwardly McGee obeys.

Bishop looks hard at Tony’s face. After a minute Tony looks up. “Yes?” he asks politely.

Bishop sees that although Tony has a bit of a fat lip, his eyes are clear and he looks rested and calm. She decides to leave it alone. “Nothing.”

“Get to work,” Gibbs barks, and the MCRT hops to it.

In a few minutes, Tony begins clicking through the photos faster, bringing his face closer to his monitor, and half closing his eyes, fingers flicking in the air as if he is playing an invisible instrument.

“Uh, Boss, I think I may have something,” he finally says, tearing his eyes away from the screen, “but I want to go back to the crime scene and I need Bishop to come with me. In the meantime, McGee, look into the Petty Officer’s background – friends, family, colleagues, exes, whoever – for someone small and flexible. Someone who could be harboring a grudge.”

“On it,” McGee says, his fingers flying over his keyboard.

“Go,” Gibbs barks.

Tony and Bishop grab their gear and hustle away. Tony turns and flashes a grin at Gibbs before entering the elevator. At the crime scene Tony focuses on the air vent high in the air in the corner of the room. He pulls his knife out and begins undoing the screws.

“Look – the screws have been loosened recently,” he points out the striations and dust marks to Bishop who photographs everything. They bag and tag the screws and the vent opening.

“I need you to dust for prints inside the vent, Bishop,” Tony tells her.

“I can’t even reach it!”

“Probette, you’re small enough to fit in there. I need you to dust all the surfaces for as far as you can reach. Can you do that? I’ll hold you up for the first part but then you’re gonna have to crawl in there. That’s why I needed you and not McGoo. You’re tiny enough to fit in that. Although McSkinny could give you a run for his money – too bad his head’s too big.”

Tony cups his palms and although Bishop complains she steps in his hand and gasps when Tony settles her on his shoulder to begin the work. She manages to get some clear prints and when Tony shoves her up higher, she pulls herself into the vent and dusts around the corner. The air vent size actually increases to more of a crawlspace, she reports, and Tony shoves a camera in for her to document it and continue dusting for prints.

Then they call McGee for a building blueprint and find a vent outside the building that could have been the entry point. They work the scene, Bishop crawling into the vent again, and Tony asks McGee to obtain footage from security cameras from the surrounding area.

When Tony and Bishop leave the scene two hours later, they have a working theory, a possible solution, a suspect and evidence to hopefully nail her. Tony is humming under his breath along with the radio while they drive.

“Tony?”

“Yes, Probette.”

“What happened to your wrists?” Bishop had seen the abrasions on Tony’s wrists earlier when he was lifting her around (as if she weighed nothing, even though he’d complained that she needed to go on a diet). And now with his hands on the steering wheel, his sleeve was riding down a little so she could see the angry marks again.

Tony flashed her a look, and deliberately pulled his sleeves over his wrists. “Nothing. Mind your own business, Bishop.”

“Are you really OK with all this stuff going on?”

Tony sighs and resists the urge to rub his forehead. “Look, I understand that you’re doing this because you – care – about me, Bishop.” It does not escape the young woman that Tony had hesitated to acknowledge that she, Bishop might actually care about him.

“I do care, Tony.”

He grins at her, a small, genuine, embarrassed grin. “I appreciate it. OK is a strong word. I hate that things have become a circus and I have trouble coping. But I’m handling it. I am. Really.”

“So why do you have what looks to be abrasions caused by metal cuffs on your wrists?”

Tony clears his throat and to Bishop’s surprise he blushes furiously. “It’s private,” he finally manages to say, keeping his eyes resolutely on the road.

Bishop is quiet for a half second before she gasps. “Oh! _Gibbs_?”

“Let’s talk about something else OK? Like the case? Dead Petty Officer? Justice needs to be served.”

“I didn’t know either of you were into this. I can actually see Gibbs cuffing someone but not so much you being cuffed…” Bishop speculates.

“Stop right there,” Tony groans.

“No, seriously. How come we haven’t seen marks on you before this?”

“Look it’s not a regular thing. I needed – handling – after yesterday and Jethro – handled – it. That’s all.”

“Does Abby know?”

“Listen Bishop, seriously. Jethro doesn’t play like that. But I…used to. So he took care of me. That’s all. So help me, if this gets around I will not be pleased,” Tony is quietly threatening. “I don’t want any speculation on Gibbs, you understand? Which means no speculating about me either. Yes, Abby found out this morning as well. Are we done?”

“OK, Tony. Although I highly suggest leather cuffs next time. Much gentler on the skin. I can even recommend a good brand.”

Tony groans again, finally smiling. “Under no circumstances do you mention this to McGee or anyone else.”

“I can talk to Abby, right? Since she knows?”

“Fine. But not in the office.”

“Gotta say Tony, I love that you’re rocking the hickeys. Not even bothering to hide those. Love it.”

Tony rolls his eyes. “Why do I have a feeling that you’d still be talking about this even if I crashed us into that truck head on, Bishop?”

Bishop laughs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never written a sex scene involving any pain play, so hopefully I was creative enough to help Gibbs help Tony.
> 
> I'm way too sleepy now so will reply to the last few comments on the previous chapters after my nap. :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Gibbs do the rest of their interviews.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to [penumbria](http://archiveofourown.org/users/penumbria/pseuds/penumbria) for her beautiful artwork!

By the end of the day, they have both the murder weapon and the suspect in custody – the tiny, malnourished-looking teenaged daughter of the Petty Officer’s ex-girlfriend. Apparently after the breakup the ex-girlfriend went into a downward spiral, drinking too much, and ended up wrapping her car around a tree and killing herself. The daughter, who was a star gymnast, blamed the Petty Officer, bought a gun from a contact in school, found her way in through the vents and while he was asleep, shot him in the head before leaving the way she entered, never touching the door or caring that the SRO that the Petty Officer was living in until his next deployment was a windowless room. McGee and Bishop work together to extract a confession so the case can be put to bed.

The team is quietly working on their reports when Vance comes to the bullpen.

“Gibbs, DiNozzo, my office please?” he asks, his expression sympathetic.

Tony frowns. He saves his work and reluctantly stands and follows a half step behind Gibbs as they walk up the stairs to Vance’s office. To their surprise Sarah Porter is there in person.

“Special Agent Gibbs, Special Agent DiNozzo,” Porter smiles at them.

Gibbs nods a silent greeting and Tony stares at her expressionlessly.

“Madam Secretary,” he greets her politely. “I’m guessing that us solving the locked door mystery is not why you’re here?”

“Gentlemen, thank you for your cooperation yesterday. Agent DiNozzo, I hope you are feeling better today. I understand that is why you had to leave unexpectedly during our call yesterday?”

Tony raises an eyebrow and nods silently. He does not apologize, even though he understands that Secretary Porter has just given him an out for his insubordination of the previous day.

Porter looks intently at him for a moment, before moving on. “I wanted to come in person to give you the short list of appearances we would like for you to make.” She holds out a piece of paper. “As agreed, you can identify the five of your choice from this list and my office will make the appropriate arrangements.”

Glancing at Tony who hasn’t moved, Gibbs takes the paper, pulls out his reading glasses and skims through it. He holds it out to Tony who flicks his eyes down the list. He looks up at Porter and Vance, eyes slightly widened.

“These people actually _want_ to speak to us?” he asks.

“They all requested it.”

“I’m never going back undercover, am I?” Tony says softly. “Ever. It would have been risky after yesterday. But after all this…” He falls silent.

“You’re gonna have to decide on which five, DiNozzo,” Gibbs says, “cause I really don’t know and don’t care. They’re all the same to me.”

Tony takes the paper, pulls a pen out of his pocket, and looking through the list again, places checkmarks next to five items. He hands the sheet back to Gibbs and stands there, eyes on the floor, hands in his pockets. He wonders if he should walk out on the SecNav two days in a row. He is definitely tempted, but this time it isn’t the SecNav’s decision to make further appearances. He stifles a sigh and wishes he were somewhere else. Ignoring the conversation going on around him, his mind wanders to the next week, hoping he will be able to keep himself together for the duration. He knows that Gibbs has already placed another call to the prison where Mulroney is incarcerated, ensuring that the man would be kept in isolation until the hue and cry has died down, and Abby and McGee are cocked and ready to remove and scrub as much as they can of his videos after all the interviews are completed. There is little chance of him ever seeing those performances and Tony doesn’t mind if he sees the still photographs of him and Gibbs.

In the meantime, the conversation continues around him.

“As agreed, let’s get this over with quickly,” Gibbs growls as he gives the sheet to Porter. “We don’t need to drag this out. Within one week.”

Porter nods. “I can do that. Thank you Agent Gibbs.”

“Then NCIS will release a statement requesting everyone back the hell away from us so we can continue to do our jobs.”

“Yes, Agent Gibbs. Your attorneys have made that clear and you have it in writing.”

“Good,” Gibbs grunts. “No more unauthorized photos or videos. We reserve the right to approve any new photos or videos your office releases.”

“I understand, Agent Gibbs. We have an agreement. In writing,” Porter folds the sheet and slides it into her purse. “And per the agreement, feel free to expense any new clothes that you might purchase for these interviews. I know that Agent DiNozzo has expensive and exquisite tastes.”

Gibbs looks at Tony, eyebrows raised, expecting a reaction about being able to expense clothing, but the younger man gives no sign that he even heard that comment. His eyes are still on the floor. He might be there in body, but he has mentally left Vance’s office.

“You can be sure that we will,” Gibbs says. “One week and then no more appearances. Good day Secretary Porter. Leon.” Gibbs grabs Tony’s arm and propels him out of Vance’s office.

“Please refrain from injuries for the next week, Agent Gibbs, Agent DiNozzo,” Porter calls out, “especially to your faces?”

“I’ll be sure to let the perps know to lay off the face when they’re trying to beat the shit out of us, ma’am,” Gibbs retorts, unable to refrain from rolling his eyes. “Let’s go, DiNozzo.”

Porter and Vance exchange a look after the door closes behind the two agents. Vance sighs. “This can still go terribly wrong,” he mutters, “and I hope you remember that Gibbs told you this, DiNozzo told you this, and now I’m telling you this. Again.”

Porter nods. “It’s an acceptable risk. They won’t be held accountable if public opinion changes. I know they’re doing this under duress.”

“DiNozzo did not jump at the chance to expense new clothes. That is a very bad sign, ma’am.”

Porter turns serious eyes to Vance. “I understand that this is difficult for your agents.”

“They’re field agents, ma’am. They do this job because they like being in the field. Much more publicity and it might affect how effective they are at doing their jobs. I don’t think either of us wants to see the MCRT solve rate drop. Or see NCIS lose these agents altogether.”

“Five more appearances, Director,” Porter says with finality.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tony spends an obscene amount of NCIS’s money to outfit himself and Gibbs for their appearances. He purchases everything all new, and as high end as he can get. He builds their interview wardrobes from the ground up, refusing to wear anything to these that wasn’t brand new, down to socks, underwear and accessories. Gibbs doesn’t question it, only idly wondering if they will be burning these new clothes at the end of the week. The way Tony is behaving, he wouldn’t be surprised if that were to happen.

Tony is very good at choosing what to wear for each interview, customizing everything according to the personality of each show and interviewer. For one, they both wear tailored button down shirts that make their shoulders look broader, tucked into tight but not sinfully tight jeans. For another, they are clad in suits but with open collared dress shirts and no tie. For a third interview, both wear suits and ties. Quirky t-shirt, jeans, leather jackets for yet another. All the colors that Tony chooses complement their eyes, all the styles flattering to their already toned and muscled figures.

Tony lets Gibbs choose any additional photos of them to be released and Gibbs refuses to authorize the release of any other videos of them. In the meantime, Tony works to hold it together. For the next week, they work their cases with the usual ruthless efficiency of the MCRT, and when scheduled they show up for their appearances, dressed per Tony’s exacting specifications. Tony consistently appears open, charming and witty, and Gibbs is intense, motivated with patches of wry humor. Even through the stress of this all, neither man can hide their devotion to each other.

Some of the interview excerpts that go viral:  
Excerpt 1  
 _Tony: “I just don’t understand why two middle-aged men getting married in DC is so fascinating.”_  
 _Interviewer: “Middle aged!?!!? Have you two looked in a mirror lately?”_  
 _Tony shrugs: “There are plenty of younger, hotter people doing what we did.”_  
 _Interviewer: “But you’re federal agents. Armed and dangerous! How very James Bond…”_  
 _Tony, with a wicked grin: “We’re Special Agents, not Secret Agents.”_  
 _Gibbs: “Do your Sean Connery impression, Tony.”_

Excerpt 2  
 _Interviewer: “And do you find that married sex different than unmarried sex?”_  
 _Tony: “I hate to be the one to break this to you, man. Human anatomy doesn’t actually change after marriage. The sex is the same. Sex is sex.”_  
 _Interviewer: “Are you saying that it’s exactly the same? No post-wedding slump?”_  
 _Tony (looking around with mock suspicion): “What kind of audience watches this show?”_  
 _Gibbs: “The sex is *beep*ing fantastic, *beep* you very much.”_  
 _Tony: “Jethro!”_  
 _Interviewer: “So, definitely no post-wedding slump!”_  
 _Gibbs, laconically: “Definitely not.”_  
 _Tony: “Seriously, are there minors watching this show? Parents, make your kids go to bed now!”_

Excerpt 3  
 _Tony (impatiently): “No, we don’t ‘take turns’ cuffing the perps. There are four of us on the team and whoever is in the best position to do it will be the one to pull out the cuffs. We have strict policies and regulations.”_  
 _Interviewer (suggestively): “So you don’t just let Agent Gibbs do all the handcuffing?”_  
 _Tony: “I feel like this is going somewhere far, far away from actual NCIS policies and procedures, Boss.”_  
 _Gibbs: “Too bad gagging is against regulations. Would’ve been a nice option for right about now.”_

Excerpt 4  
 _Interviewer: “When you’re questioning a suspect, who plays good cop and who plays bad cop?”_  
 _Tony: “It would really depend on the person we’re questioning. The team works together to find the best possible combination and strategy to get a person to talk. There’s always variables to consider…”_  
 _Interviewer (interrupting): “Are you saying that Agent Gibbs doesn’t always play bad cop?”_  
 _Tony (steely eyed, and menacingly): “Are you saying that I wouldn’t be able to be bad cop?”_  
 _Interviewer (swallowing audibly): “Um, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”_  
 _Tony (smiling to the studio audience): “See? He totally fell for it.”_  
 _Gibbs (glaring fiercely): “And who says I’m only ‘playing’ bad cop?”_  
 _Interviewer (stammers and stutters)_

Excerpt 5  
 _Interviewer: “Tony, as a former police officer, you would be a good person to ask this question, since you’ve been a cop and are now a federal agent. What makes working for the NCIS more challenging than say, a regular law enforcement agency?”_  
 _Tony: “Well, for me, the main difference is that for the majority of our cases, the person we have to arrest is usually highly trained in hand to hand combat and is almost always armed. In ‘regular’ law enforcement, this is not always the case. At NCIS, we have to go into every scenario prepared for, and aware of this fact.”_  
 _Interviewer: “Are you saying that it’s more dangerous then?”_  
 _Tony: “Nobody wants to get into a pissing contest as to which arrests were more dangerous. Every time a law enforcement officer does their job, they’re putting their lives on the line. All I’m saying is that I’ve never met a Marine who wasn’t armed and dangerous. Even when they’re not technically armed.”_  
 _Gibbs (grinning): “Oo-rah.”_  
 _Interviewer: “Could you give me an example?”_  
 _Tony: “Well, one time we had to take down a Marine on LSD. That was painful. It took three of us to subdue him, and we still all three ended up in the hospital. Interesting how you weren’t there for that takedown, Boss.”_  
 _Gibbs smirks._  
 _Interviewer: “Do you get injured a lot then, Agent DiNozzo?”_  
 _Gibbs: “DiNozzo never met a concussion he didn’t want to take home and nurse.”_  
 _Interviewer: “Oh dear.”_  
 _Gibbs: “It’s OK. It gave me a good excuse to take him home and nurse him back to health. Happily, I don’t need that excuse to take him home with me anymore.”_  
 _Interviewer: “Awwwwwwwwww.”_

They show pictures from the wedding and from their past, and play the video clips of Tony singing at every interview. Gibbs pulls out his photo of Tony from his wallet for every interview. They talk about NCIS and law enforcement. They speak in depth about gays in law enforcement and the military. They discuss relationships in the workplace and how they make it work for them.

Support for Gibbs and Tony and the NCIS’s public profile keep rising, even though neither man has officially joined any of the advocacy groups that are vying for their attention. What makes Gibbs worry is that he can see that as the week progresses, Tony begins withdrawing more and more when he’s off-camera. He is quiet at work, not chattering or joking around like his normal self. They hear no movie quotes or wild theories. Gibbs sees that he pretends to eat but mostly plays with his food. He seems to need even more sex and physical contact with Gibbs than usual, and the sex has an almost desperate quality to it. Every night, he is plagued with nightmares and ends up silently weeping in Gibbs’ arms, something that has not happened as consistently in a while.

After their final appearance, NCIS releases their taped statement requesting that their privacy now be respected so they can return to their normal lives, and Gibbs takes Tony home despite it being a morning interview and the MCRT is actively on a case. He tells Bishop and McGee that he and Tony will be completely unreachable for the rest of the day but that they will be in the office as usual the next day. 

They swing by the diner and Gibbs guilts Tony into eating half his breakfast, then takes him home, strips the clothes off of him, and tucks him into bed. They stay under the covers, Gibbs holding him, running his hands soothingly over him, and petting his hair, generally giving comfort to him. And for once in his life, Tony remains silent, not trying to make excuses or give explanations, or deflect. He allows himself to acknowledge that Gibbs did, in fact, know just how hard it had been for him to complete the week without handing in his resignation or just rabbiting without notice. Tony lies in bed, in Gibbs’ arms, feeling the soothing movements, and he closes his eyes and sighs.

Neither man falls asleep. They just lie there, one comforting the other wordlessly, breathing quietly, listening to the sounds of the house creaking and settling, familiar noises that bring feelings of safety and home to both men.

They stay wrapped in each other’s arms in silence until the sun begins to set. Finally Tony’s stomach starts growling audibly.

Gibbs laughs, and it is the first sound that either man has made (other than Tony’s growling stomach) since they got in bed.

Tony raises his head off of Gibbs’ chest. “You think my being hungry is funny?”

“No, love,” Gibbs chuckles, “I don’t know that I’ve ever seen you be this quiet for so long without being asleep or unconscious. But of course it’s your stomach that breaks your silence.”

“I can be quiet,” comes the slightly hurt response.

“You certainly can,” Gibbs agrees. “I don’t like it. It’s not you. When you’re quiet it means something is wrong. I just want to fix it.”

Tony puts his head back down on Gibbs’ chest and tightens his hold. “You do fix it,” he says quietly. “You always do.”

They stay in each other’s embrace until the room darkens as night falls, both men ignoring Tony’s growling stomach. Finally they are forced to get out of bed when they hear the front door open and footsteps downstairs. Both men draw their weapons as they quietly open the bedroom door and listen.

“Gibbs!” a familiar voice calls.

Tony blows out his breath. It’s Fornell. He smiles and pads away, presumably to throw some clothes on. Gibbs’ eyes follow him in appreciation – naked and holding his service weapon in the dark, Tony is made up of hard planes, lean lines, toned muscles, long legs, and slight glint of metal in his hand. Like a dangerous jungle cat, now sheathing his claws. He feels his cock take interest – maybe he’ll have Tony walk around naked with his gun in the dark again later. Maybe have him pounce on him like a jungle cat.

“DiNutzo? Gibbs?” Fornell’s voice interrupts Gibbs’ thoughts.

“One second,” he calls down. He pulls a t-shirt and sweatpants on and secures his weapon before running downstairs.

“Didn’t mean to interrupt,” Fornell grins, “but your door was open. I took it to mean…”

Gibbs snorts and brushes it away. He reaches into the fridge and pulls out two beers, handing one to his old friend.

“I tried calling but didn’t get an answer or a call back. Got worried.”

“We took the day off.”

“McGee said you told him you were unreachable.”

Gibbs shrugs. “Needed to unplug. Why?”

“Emily’s at a sleepover. Thought maybe you guys could use some company.”

“Sure,” Tony pads downstairs also in sweatpants and t-shirt. “You eaten? I was thinking of rustling up some dinner.”

“You cooking or ordering?”

“You picky now, Toby?” Tony grins at him. “I got some stuff in the freezer that I can just throw in the oven and heat up.”

“Whatcha got?”

Tony opens the freezer door. “You have the option of lasagna, or meatballs. I also have frozen marinara sauce and can always make some pasta. Or we could get something delivered – there’s that new Thai place that delivers and we’ve talked about trying it out? Or of course, Chinese or pizza. Or I could make a stir fry – I think we have fresh veggies.”

“Lasagna,” both Fornell and Gibbs say together.

Tony grins at them. “Easiest option too,” he tells them. He takes the casserole dish out of the freezer, pulls the cover off of it. He sprinkles more cheese on top and covers the top with foil, and places it in the oven. “Forty-five minutes till it’s bubbly,” he tells them, pulling a beer out. “You guys need time alone?” he inclines his head upstairs. Fornell and Gibbs have a deep-seated friendship that pre-dates Tony, going back to their shared albeit not overlapping marriages to Diane. Poor murdered Diane. Tony understands that sometimes Fornell needs Gibbs’ company, and Gibbs needs Fornell’s company.

“Shut up and sit down, DiNutzo,” Fornell grins at him.

Tony looks intently at Fornell, and seeing that this is not one of those nights that Fornell needs time alone with Gibbs, he settles down on the couch. He checks his texts and voicemail messages and replies to text messages from Abby, Palmer, McGee, Ducky and Bishop.

“Been a crazy week for you two, huh?” Fornell says.

Tony purses his lips but stays silent.

“Any more to do?”

“Last one was this morning,” Gibbs says. “We’re off the hook now.” He sits next to Tony on the couch and automatically pulls him into his arms, allowing the younger man to relax against his chest.

“I really enjoyed it when you threatened to shoot that Harvey woman,” Fornell said.

Tony takes a swig of his beer. “My shining moment,” he shrugs.

“I think she still wanted to do you,” Gibbs told him.

“Please,” Tony shudders, “I have standards.”

“Emily loves that her Uncle Gibbs is famous now.”

“Glad someone is happy about all this,” Tony gripes. “I should make garlic bread.” He brushes a kiss on Gibbs’ hand and goes back into the kitchen.

Fornell makes a face at Gibbs, _What’s eating DiNutzo?_

Gibbs shakes his head once. _Later_. They change the subject and easily start talking about their recent cases. Tony makes garlic bread and puts together a salad to balance out their meal. After they eat, Tony goes upstairs, plugs his iPod in and reads in bed, listening to music.

Gibbs and Fornell move down to the basement and their bourbon course. Much later, after Fornell has been settled in the guest room, Gibbs finds that Tony is asleep, his book on his chest, music still playing in his ears. Gibbs takes the book and iPod away and crawls in next to him. In his sleep, Tony turns to him, putting his head on Gibbs’ chest, arm around his body and one leg slips in between his, sighs deeply, mumbles something unintelligible and relaxes back into sleep. Gibbs rubs Tony’s back, his arms, and his head, loving the way that Tony reacts to him even while he’s asleep. His giant lovable purring kitten.

Tony’s screams wake them both up later – his night terrors have returned. Gibbs comforts him, whispering soothingly, whispering words of love and safety, and protection, while Tony weeps silently into Gibbs’ chest. Once upon a time, Tony would have pulled away or run away. But now he accepts Gibbs’ help, and the tears flow until he cries himself back to sleep. Gibbs holds him close, kissing his face, rubbing him soothingly, until he, too, falls back to sleep.

In the morning, Gibbs wakes before his alarm. Tony is kissing his neck and caressing his nipples. He warns Tony that Fornell is in the guest room. Tony grins wickedly and challenges him to be quiet. They take their time kissing each other’s bodies, driving each other crazy with their fingers, lips, tongues and teeth, and when Gibbs is finally deep inside Tony’s body, they make slow, sweet love, kissing each other deeply, tasting each other’s skin, reveling in their connection without rushing to completion. For the first time in a week, Gibbs feels like he is connecting on more than just a physical level with Tony. That this is lovemaking, not desperate sex. As they near their climaxes, neither man is able to be particularly quiet. Tony bites down on Gibbs shoulder to try to muffle his scream as he comes, and Gibbs groans loudly into Tony’s mouth when he finds his release.

Gibbs wipes them up with a washcloth and lets Tony sleep some more while he showers.

Fornell comes down, eyes bleary, while Gibbs is pouring himself some coffee.

“He do that often?” Fornell tilts his head upstairs. “Just about gave me a heart attack last night.”

Gibbs shrugs. “It happens.”

Fornell grunts, grabs a mug and pours himself coffee. “You know what it is that scares the living daylights out of him?”

“He won’t talk about it.”

Both men are silent, both able to guess the contents of Tony’s nightmares. They both know of the atrocities he suffered during his childhood, and anyone in law enforcement for over two decades has seen many disturbing things. Tony comes down in his running gear, flashes a sleepy grin at both men, before going outside.

“So what happens today?” Fornell wants to know.

“What do you mean?”

“He need stuff? After last night? Day off? Late start at least?”

“Nah. BAU. Tony never lets it get him down.” Gibbs decides to make breakfast – pancakes, bacon. He will let Tony make the omelets when he returns.

“Didn’t let it get him down this morning either, huh?” Fornell’s tone is teasing.

Gibbs’s ears turn pink and he just grins at Fornell.

“I get it, you never did kiss and tell.”

“Don’t make me have to kill you, Tobias.”

When Tony returns from his run, he efficiently prepares the omelets. The three men eat their breakfasts in companionable silence. Fornell cannot get over how quiet Tony is in the mornings before coffee – very unlike the garrulous and outgoing DiNozzo that he normally sees. He wonders if it is the lack of coffee in the man’s system, or if this is just how Tony is around Gibbs, Tony without the need to perform for an audience. Tony cleans up the kitchen with military precision – he does not like unsanitary food preparation areas – before he goes to take his shower.

Fornell leaves to go home, shower, dress and go to work. Business As Usual, after all. If Tony can do it, then he could do it, too, hangover be damned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the kudos and lovely, lovely comments! Wanted to let you all know how much I appreciate you! I will reply to all outstanding comments later. Hope you enjoy this new chapter!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So grateful to [penumbria](http://archiveofourown.org/users/penumbria/pseuds/penumbria) for the gorgeous artwork. Thank you!

On Saturday night, while Gibbs is working on the boat in the basement, Tony is curled up on the couch under a blanket, TV on low, plugged into his iPod, reading. On the coffee table is a mess of thank you cards and lists of people to send them to.

Leon Vance walks in the front door, which is as usual, unlocked. Tony looks up, surprised. They get unexpected visitors all the time, but not usually Vance and not usually Vance on the weekend.

“Don’t get up,” Vance tells him as he starts to uncurl. “Gibbs in the basement?”

Tony nods and inclines his head, indicating that Vance should just go on downstairs.

“You get more and more like him every day,” Vance tells him.

“Director?” Tony is puzzled.

“With the ordering me around.”

Tony raises an amused eyebrow. “Hadn’t noticed an order being given.”

Vance grins. “Could’ve fooled me. I’ll go on down, as ordered.” He tries to hide his surprise. Tony is reading through what looks to be a huge, hardcover textbook. There are post-its sticking out from different pages, and Tony has a red pen stuck behind his ear and blue one in his hand. “What’s that?” he points.

“I would have thought you’d know a book when you see one, Director,” Tony says, tongue in cheek.

“No, I know that much, DiNozzo. Is that… are you reading a textbook?”

Tony holds it up so Vance can see the title. It is a textbook on Advanced Criminology.

“I didn’t know you were taking classes, DiNozzo.”

“I’m not. I know the guy who wrote this and he sent me a gallows copy.”

“You providing input?”

Tony shrugs. “Somebody has to.” Deliberately he turns his attention back to his book and Vance, recognizing that he has been dismissed, goes down to the basement.

Gibbs greets him without turning from his task. He finishes it and heads to the worktable, emptying out a mason jar, blowing in it and pouring a measure of bourbon.

“DiNozzo is reading,” Vance tells him, accepting the jar.

“The man _is_ literate, Leon.”

“I know that. It’s just that DiNozzo sitting at home on a weekend reading a textbook is not what I pictured.”

“He’s also watching some movie and listening to music while he reads. And if he gets tired of that, he’s also working on thank you cards.”

Vance looks sharply at Gibbs, wondering if he will leave it entirely to Tony to respond to their wedding gifts and cards.

Reading his mind, Gibbs rolls his eyes. “I help too.”

“Uh-huh,” Vance grins knowingly.

“I do,” Gibbs insists. “A little.”

Vance shakes his head. “Well, it’s not the first time I’ve said it, but I don’t understand how your husband’s mind works.”

“You and me both, Leon.”

“Still. DiNozzo? Reading on a weekend night?”

“Abby is taking him out dancing later, if it’s any consolation.”

They drink in silence. “Social call? Or business?” Gibbs finally asks.

Vance sighs, throwing back the shot and holding the jar out for more. Gibbs refills the jar.

“You’re not going to like this,” he says warningly.

“I never like anything, Leon. Spit it out.”

“Remember Deanna Harvey? Your first interview?”

Gibbs nods.

“As it turns out, she’s a relative of the SecDef. His niece, in fact.”

“DiNozzo! Get down here!” Gibbs yells. He turns to Leon. “He’d better hear this too. I’m not going to let you let me break news this bad to him by myself.”

Tony scrambles down the stairs, weapon in one hand, cell phone in the other. “Thought we weren’t on call. We gearing up, Boss? Where should I tell McGoo and Bish to meet us?”

“Stand down, DiNozzo,” Gibbs says gently. “Leon has news for us both. Not case related.”

Tony slips the phone and gun into the front pocket of his OSU hoodie. “I’m not going to like this, am I?” He stands next to Gibbs, shoulders straight, arms crossed, muscles tensed. “What’s up?”

“Leon says that that Harvey woman is SecDef’s niece,” Gibbs summarizes, then turns to Leon gesturing for him to continue.

Tony’s face is a blank mask as he turns his green eyes to Vance. He does not have a good track record with the nieces of the Secretaries of anything.

“Yes, well, as Gibbs says, Deanna Harvey is the SecDef’s niece. And she has made a request that comes directly from him now. She wants to ride along with the MCRT for a week or two.”

“Ride along?” Gibbs asks. “What does that mean?”

“She and her cameraman are going to be shadowing your team for the next couple of weeks. And interviewing your team and the people that work with your team. They will be allowed to go with you and your team everywhere, except MTAC. They will not divulge any information on your cases, but they want to devote airtime to the MCRT and all its members. It’s to be a human interest piece – a day in the life of the crime fighters of the NCIS sort of thing.”

Silence. Tony and Gibbs exchange looks. They look back at Vance, both silent. Vance thinks they’re even blinking in sync. They both glare at Vance for a moment before exchanging another look.

“We were done, Leon,” Gibbs says, his tone surprisingly mild.

“I know. I thought you were done too.”

“We have it in writing that we’re done with interviews.”

“SecDef says this isn’t an interview.”

“A technicality.”

“I know, Gibbs,” Vance sighs. “I don’t like this any more than you do. I even called your attorney first before I came here. She’s out of town but said we can conference her in on this discussion if we want.”

“What did she say?”

Vance sighs. “Since this order comes from the SecDef and the SecNav and is a human interest piece on the MCRT as a _team_ ,” he stresses the word ‘team’, even making air quotes, “that unfortunately it does not constitute an invasion of your privacy as it is to be strictly work related. It should not stray into your private lives. They can and have ordered this kind of publicity for other groups and teams in other branches of the federal government. Their argument is that NCIS has been the unsung heroes for long enough. Which as you both know is true.”

“But our damned mugs’ll be on TV! Again!” Gibbs roars.

“I know, Gibbs.”

Tony puts a hand on Gibbs’ arm and dials their attorney, who picks up on the first ring, apparently expecting their call. He puts the phone on speaker and they talk through all their options. Unfortunately, as the SecDef has carefully ordered this ride along for the entire team, keeping the scope of the ride along only on the team as a whole, NCIS in general, and only during their work hours, that they have no recourse. They hang up with the attorney and stare at each other for long moments.

“So we have no choice in this matter?” Gibbs says softly.

“Unfortunately, no. Your attorney doesn’t think so either,” Vance sounds regretful.

“Can I quit, Boss?” Tony isn’t joking.

“No, DiNozzo. Not over this,” Gibbs tells him. Vance stops himself from facepalming, wondering what Gibbs will allow Tony to quit over.

“One week,” Gibbs glares at Vance. “Not two. That is overly disruptive.”

“OK.”

“We – all of us – have to approve anything they air. Anything and everything. Nothing airs unless the MCRT unanimously OKs it.”

“Done.”

“They will not be coming home with us,” Gibbs says. “If Bishop or McGee are ok with them doing that, then that’s up to them. But they will not be coming home with DiNozzo and me.”

“Of course. This is supposed to be work related only.”

“Crime scenes are off limits to them too. Not just MTAC. I don’t want them messing up my crime scenes either.”

“I might get push back on that.”

“Push back, then,” Gibbs is intractable. “Hard. If you want criminals to go free because fucking reporters contaminated evidence, then be my guest, Leon.”

“I’m not the one doing this, Gibbs,” Vance says reasonably.

Gibbs sighs and nods, the only apology Vance will get.

“How about, no reporters on the crime scene until you release it?” Vance suggests.

Gibbs nods, a muscle working in his jaw. He glances at Tony who has been practically silent throughout this conversation. “You OK?” he asks, surprisingly gentle.

“I fucking hate this,” Tony’s tone is so miserable that Gibbs puts his arm around him and gently pulls his head down onto his shoulder, ruffling his hair. The affectionate gesture surprises Vance, for some reason.

“Maybe someone will shoot her,” Gibbs tells him soothingly.

“Can it be me?” Tony perks up.

“No. No shooting the reporter, Tony.”

“Fuck. We so should have just gotten married over lunch,” Tony mutters, turning his head and brushing a light kiss on Gibbs’ cheek before straightening up.

These exchanges always makes Vance do a double take – he has gotten used to his two agents smacking each other around while sparring, taking care of each other during illnesses and injuries, and of course he is more than used to seeing Gibbs dole out the headslaps. But his two most feared and most successful agents, treating each other with love and tenderness is something he never thought he would see.

“Tony…”

“I’m shutting up, Jet.” Tony stands away from Gibbs, but their shoulders touch, hands brushing against each other.

Gibbs sighs. He knows that Tony will not show weakness in front of Vance. “You gonna cancel going out with Abby?”

Tony makes a face. “Nah. Maybe it’ll be good for me to get out and do something crazy tonight.”

“Not too crazy?”

Tony gives him a small grin. “Not too crazy,” he agrees. “So, McGoo is coming to the apartment tomorrow – I promised him dinner while Delilah is out of town. We can tell him the great news about this ride along then. Abby’ll also be there. Maybe Bishop and Jake will come too. Break the lovely news to them all in one go.” He looks at Gibbs, eyebrow raised, and whatever he sees in Gibbs expression (Vance cannot read it) makes him turn back to Vance. “If you’re open, you’re welcome to bring the kids for dinner at our apartment tomorrow night?”

Vance nods. “That would be great,” he smiles. Tony’s dinners have become a highlight for his family, and for the MCRT. He knows that his kids will drop everything for the treat that Tony’s dinner will be.

“Call Ducky and Palmer,” Gibbs says.

“Fornell, too,” Tony says. “Gang’s all invited.”

“I don’t know how to thank the both of you for this,” Vance says.

Gibbs shrugs, but Tony’s eyes gleam.

“No thanks necessary for dinner. But for the work stuff, I’m sure we’ll think of something suitable,” he says grimly.

“Any other surprises?” Gibbs asks.

Vance shakes his head curtly. With a pang, Vance sees Tony’s fingers brush Gibbs’ slightly, their touch simultaneously brief yet lingering, conveying a volley of words in the way that touches between long-term couples do. Vance misses having that, misses Jackie with all his heart, his mind supplying all the comments that Jackie would have had about Gibbs and Tony becoming a couple and even marrying. How she would have enjoyed their wedding and their slow-burn love story.

“I’m going back upstairs,” Tony nods and silently starts up the stairs. Halfway up, he pauses and runs back down. “Did you say that she’s the SecDef’s niece?” he asks again, frowning thoughtfully.

Vance nods.

“And the order comes from him?”

Vance nods again.

“And the SecNav ordered us to do that first interview. With Miss Harvey. The SecDef’s niece?” Tony says slowly.

Vance nods.

Tony’s eyes narrow. He snorts quietly. “I’m going back to my book. Director,” he says, giving Gibbs a significant look, promising further discussion after some thought. And with a last squeeze of Gibbs’ hand, goes back up the stairs, no doubt to his comfortable spot on the couch, to curl up with his book and post-it notes, movie, music, and thank you cards.

“I still can’t believe you have an intellectual DiNozzo on a weekend night,” Vance mutters.

Gibbs smiles, a wide open smile. “He’s an enigma,” his smile is proud and tender.

“Don’t tell anyone I’m reading on a weekend,” Tony’s voice comes floating down, “I have an image to uphold, you know.”

Vance waits for a long moment before he gives Gibbs a questioning look. “What was all that about the SecDef’s niece?”

Gibbs shrugs. “He’s got some vague ideas of something now. He’ll tell me more when he knows more. You know how he is.”

Vance nods. He is aware of that unconventional DiNozzo brain, able to solve cases by making some strange and seemingly unrelated leaps. He has learned to trust Gibbs’ instincts on what kind of leeway to give DiNozzo for optimal MCRT performance, and defers to him again. But now that his unappealing task has been completed, he relaxes on a sawhorse.

Vance ends up staying for a couple of hours, sitting in the basement with Gibbs, sipping bourbon. Hanging out with Gibbs is strangely easy – you never needed to think of things to say, and certainly you never needed to be sociable. Every so often you re-fill your jar, and hand him a tool if he requests it. And if you felt like talking, you did, and Gibbs would listen as he silently works. Vance wonders what it is about Gibbs that makes people want to tell him things – either they’re intimidated into it during interrogation, or they need to fill the silence while he works in his basement. Either way, people end up spilling their guts out to Gibbs. But Vance has, in recent years, become comfortable in Gibbs’ basement. He smiles to himself. Who would have thought that his relationship with Gibbs would have come this far, given how antagonistic it had been when he was first named Director.

“Babe, Abby’s here,” Tony calls down. “We’re about to leave!”

“Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs! Come up and see us before we go, Bossman!”

Gibbs and Vance head up the stairs, and Gibbs smiles and hugs Abby. Abby is decked out in a skintight catsuit, all black and shiny, skirt terminating way north of her knees, flesh bared to the tops of her knee-high platform boots. Her hair is down for once, her makeup even more dramatic than usual. She looks ridiculously sexy. Vance does a double take when he sees Tony. Gone is the quiet intellectual in the ratty OSU hoodie. Tony has on skin-tight leather pants that leaves nothing to the imagination, a black silk shirt, unbuttoned almost to his navel, black leather jacket, his hair is teased into spikes, and was he wearing eyeliner? Vance resists the urge to touch Tony’s eye to verify.

Gibbs audibly gulps when he sees Tony.

Abby jumps up and down laughing at Gibbs’ reaction. “Isn’t he like super hot, Bossman?” she coos. “It’s been a few years since we’ve done this. I’ve missed seeing him all dressed up to go clubbing with me.”

Tony looks embarrassed. “Only this one time, Abby. I’m old and married now.”

“I don’t know if I should let you leave the house looking like that,” Gibbs says in a hushed tone. Tony sees the lust in Gibbs’ eyes. He steps in and unselfconsciously kisses Gibbs, hard.

“I’ll be home before you know it,” he tells the older man, smiling faintly.

“Definitely wake me up when you get home.”

Tony laughs and kisses him again. “See ya, babe.”

“Bye, gorgeous.”

Abby hugs Gibbs tightly and leaves a clearly defined SWAK on his cheek before she takes Tony’s hand and they run out together.

Vance looks at Gibbs in a mixture of admiration and horror.

“What?” Gibbs asks roughly.

“You’re letting your husband go out dancing dressed like that without you?”

“I don’t ‘let’ Tony do stuff. He’s a grown man. He makes his own decisions. I trust him,” Gibbs tries not to sound defensive.

“Damn. Do you trust all the men and women who are going to be out clubbing with them tonight?” Vance shakes his head. “You realize you now have to worry about everybody with him? At least when you thought he was straight you’d only have to worry about women. Half the population. But now…”

Gibbs laughs. “I don’t worry about that, Leon. He only agreed to do this because he refused to let Abby throw him a bachelor party. So to make up for that, he agreed to go clubbing with her one time. He says he’s limiting himself to one alcoholic beverage so he can drive them both home afterwards. Guest room’s all made up for Abby.” Gibbs grins. “Tony said that you know you’re too old to go clubbing when you’re planning to have only one drink, dance the night with your friend, and make sure she gets home safe.”

“They both look like they’ll pull it off,” Vance grins.

Gibbs growls appreciatively, thinking of how Tony’s ass looked in those pants, thinking how much he will enjoy peeling him out of those leather pants later.

“Abby promises that this club is geared more towards their age group. Tony said he didn’t want to be everyone else’s dad out there.”

“I don’t think he has to worry about any of that,” Vance says, shaking his head.

Gibbs grunts, definitely still thinking of Tony’s ass in those leather pants.

“You’re still a very brave and trusting man, Gibbs,” Vance says. “Ain’t no way I would have ever let Jackie leave the house looking like that.”

“You can’t tame DiNozzo. He’s who he is,” Gibbs shrugs, grinning as he moves to the fridge. “Wanna help me stress eat? I think we have leftover lasagna in here.”

“DiNozzo make it?”

Gibbs nods.

“From scratch?”

“You’re lucky he’s not here to hear you ask me that.”

“Hell, yeah. I’ll take some of DiNozzo’s lasagna.”

As they eat together, Vance looks thoughtfully at Gibbs. “Are you really going to be asleep when DiNozzo gets home?”

“Fuck, no. Didn’t you _see_ what he was wearing?”

“How long before you go out and drag him home?”

Gibbs looks at his watch. “Three hours. Tops.”

Vance chuckles softly, and stuffs his face with DiNozzo’s lovely lasagna.

Tony and Abby return home about five minutes before Gibbs would have left to go searching for them. Abby snickers, seeing that Gibbs is not only awake, but dressed and has his keys in his hand. She also snickers when she sees Gibbs’ expression upon seeing Tony, still in his clubbing clothes, still flushed and sweaty from dancing all night.

His eyes darken with lust and Tony is barely able to squeak out a good night to Abby before he is dragged upstairs, Gibbs’ mouth on his even as they move up the stairs. She debates between staying downstairs to give them the illusion of privacy, or going up to the guest room, but decides that although she might have been banned from watching her two favorite men _in flagrante delicto_ , neither of them have said anything about listening. Not purposely eavesdropping by their door, or putting a glass on the shared wall or anything. But if she were upstairs in the guest bedroom that she has been invited to use, and she were to overhear sounds of what is bound to be really hot sex, well, then they couldn’t blame her, could they?

She grins wickedly as she goes up the stairs. Oh yeah. She can definitely and clearly hear them going at it.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for the ride along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to [penumbria](http://archiveofourown.org/users/penumbria/pseuds/penumbria) for the gorgeous artwork!

The MCRT is called in to a case at 0400 on Monday morning. They have been called to a small alley where the bodies of two sailors on leave have been found. The victims were found in an alley only several blocks from where Abby and Tony had gone clubbing not even forty eight hours ago. Tony tells himself he is not ever going to tell Gibbs this, knowing that he will not only forbid Tony to ever go clubbing again (not that Tony actually wants to ever go clubbing again, but really, not even his husband should forbid him from doing anything), but Gibbs will probably even forbid Abby from going clubbing again which would not only be an exercise in futility but could also potentially drive a wedge in their relationship.

The team is well into the swing of processing the scene when a network news van shows up. There seems to be a debate going on at the yellow police tape – somebody is trying to get into the crime scene.

Thinking that the reporters have caught the news of the murders, Tony looks up from photographing the body and inclines his head to the street.

“McGee, go make sure that Metro doesn’t allow looky-loos into the perimeter,” he orders, and continues to photograph and sketch.

McGee nods and trots over.

“You find any shell casings yet, Bishop?” Tony calls out. “It looks like the shots were fired from your direction.”

“Not yet, Tony,” came the response. “Crap! There are a couple of large dumpsters here!”

“I foresee some probie dumpster diving coming up, ProBish!” Tony grins.

“Dammit! Why do I always get the dumpster diving duties?”

“We can always flip a coin.”

“With your trick coin? Forget it!”

Tony laughs wickedly. He scans the area – Gibbs is still speaking with the man who discovered the bodies, the owner of a bar with a back door opening into the alley. He was also going to speak to the busboy and short order cook who had still been there when the bodies were discovered. According to the bar owner, they had all been there extra late, himself due to their monthly inventory, and the cook and busboy had been completing a deep cleaning of the kitchen that night after closing. Ducky and Jimmy are reciting their preliminary findings and Tony automatically notes the details down in his notebook while he continues his work.

“Tony!” McGee calls to him.

“Deal with it, Probie!” Tony yells back.

“I need you or Gibbs here. Now, please!”

Tony sees that Gibbs has just slipped into the back door of the bar. Sighing, he excuses himself from Ducky and Palmer and strides over to McGee. “What, McGee?” he snaps as the junior agent beckons to him, looking worried.

McGee appears to be telling the reporter and cameraman to wait and runs the few steps to Tony. “Tony, it’s Deanna Harvey. She’s starting the ride along _now_ , she says,” McGee mutters softly to him. “She’s threatening to call the SecDef if I don’t let her in. And while I don’t give a shit about the SecDef and whatever the hell he thinks he can do to us, _you_ said we’re to let her follow us around this week and talk to us. But this is an active crime scene. I don’t want to be responsible for contaminating evidence. Can you imagine what Gibbs would do to me if I let that happen?”

Tony’s eyes narrow. “She’s here? Already?” he growls.

McGee sighs inwardly. Tony had that look on his face now and it was just too damned early for this kind of stress. “Look, Tony, I don’t think she’ll stay on the other side of the yellow line. The minute we turn our backs, she’s going to either trick the cops into letting her in, or she’ll sneak in. She has that look about her. I am _not_ going to let her contaminate our crime scene.”

Tony nods grimly. “With me, McGee.”

“Tony, don’t forget that she has permission to follow us around this week, OK? L-let’s not get too crazy here. Right?” McGee tries to reason with his SFA.

Tony gives him a predatory smile. “It’ll be OK, Probie. With me.” He strides toward the yellow tape, leaving McGee to run after him, muttering to himself.

“Miss Harvey?” Tony smiles at her, although McGee sees that his eyes are hard and unfriendly. Tony sees that the camera’s red light is on – the cameraman is already recording. “You’re up early.”

“You’re on a case. We’re riding along this whole week. So that starts today. We need to get in past the yellow tape, and follow you.”

“Miss Harvey – I understand that you have permission for the ride-along – however this is an active crime scene. We can’t allow evidence to be contaminated. You and your cameraman have not completed the appropriate trainings to be allowed beyond the yellow line so you must stay here right now.”

“But Tony…”

“Did you read the agreement that you signed with NCIS, Miss Harvey?” Tony’s tone is ice cold. “Active crime scenes are off limits.”

“But Tony! This is part of what you do! It’s essential that…”

Tony holds up a hand to stop her objections.

“We aren’t going allow any possibility of miscarriage of justice due to us incorrectly processing this crime scene, Miss Harvey,” Tony’s expression is quiet and serious. “But Agent McGee will stay here with you and he can tell you what we’re doing here this lovely Monday morning. When our ME and his assistant are done, you can also speak with them while we finish processing the scene. Please stay on the other side of the yellow tape or you _will_ be removed and the rest of this week’s ride-along will be jeopardized. You will stay here and speak to McGee until Doctor Mallard and Mr Palmer are ready to speak to you. You will remain on the other side of the yellow tape at all times. Are we clear?”

Deanna appears taken aback. This Tony is quite different from the easygoing, friendly man she had spoken with during their interview. His NCIS cap is pulled down low over his face, the NCIS jacket zipped up and a scarf secure around his neck. A professional looking dSLR camera is slung around his neck. In his hand is a large sketchbook and a pen. More importantly, his expression is cold and closed off.

“When we release the crime scene, you’ll be welcome to walk around and McGee or Bishop will explain what we found here this morning. You won’t miss anything.”

Deanna purses her lips, and finally nods. The request is not only reasonable but also adheres to the agreement that she and her cameraman had signed. She had assumed that she would be able to talk her way onto a crime scene, but she sees the futility of that now.

“Thank you. McGee, stay here,” Tony sees McGee nod and he turns away.

“Tony..?” Deanna calls out.

Tony turns back, his movements so graceful that McGee feels like decking him. “Yes, Miss Harvey?”

“You can call me Deanna, you know.”

“You can call me Agent DiNozzo.” He gives her a blank stare and walks away.

“That was cold!” the cameraman remarks.

“Tony must not have had his morning coffee yet,” McGee mutters. “He’s not usually that grumpy. That’s like Gibbs-grumpy.”

Deanna looks curiously at the figure walking away. “I guess he really didn’t want us riding along, huh?” she asks McGee.

McGee shrugs noncommittally. Deanna stares at the retreating figure a moment longer before she turns to McGee with a smile that makes the junior agent cringe. He’s in for it now.

“Agent McGee, isn’t it?” she starts.

Tony immediately calls Gibbs to let him know that Deanna and her cameraman have arrived and that McGee is keeping them busy for now. Gibbs grunts his approval and hangs up. Tony goes back and finishes measuring, sketching and photographing. He asks Ducky and Palmer to spend a few minutes with Deanna before leaving with the body, then he helps Bishop finish bagging and tagging but they have still not found any shell casings.

The sun is finally rising. Gibbs comes over, handing Tony a cup of coffee and demanding a sitrep. Tony nods his thanks and proceeds to give his report, then Bishop reports her findings. Gibbs’ eyes turn to the reporters – Ducky is talking to them and seems to be occupying their time.

“That was clever,” Gibbs says.

“What?”

“Sending Ducky to talk to them.”

Tony grins. “They wanted to speak to everyone who works with us.”

“You know I have to let them in now, right?”

“We haven’t found any shell casings, Boss.”

“Just those two dumpsters left to search.”

Bishop sighs. She knows it’s coming.

“I’ll do it,” Tony says quietly, stuffing his equipment and evidence bags into his backpack. “I’ll go gear up first.”

Stunned, Bishop watches as Tony stalks away. On any other day, she would be the one asked to complete this task. And she understands why – Tony has done his share of the icky work over the years, and as the most junior member of the team, it only makes sense that these jobs would fall to her. She has never seen Tony volunteer to do this work. The only times that he’s jumped into a dumpster is when they are working all hands on deck and everybody is doing it, or if he has pissed Gibbs off and he assigned the task to him as punishment. She turns to Gibbs. “What just happened?” she asks him.

Gibbs shrugs. “I think he just chose to go dumpster diving rather than talk to those reporters. You and McGee walk them through the crime scene then take them back to the Navy Yard.” He throws the car keys to her and gestures for her to throw him the truck keys. “DiNozzo and I will take the truck back in.”

“Uh, yes, Boss,” Bishop tries not to look completely floored.

Tony ignores the reporters as he shrugs into an NCIS jumpsuit and pulls big black boots on over his shoes. Luckily, due to the early morning callout, he is wearing jeans and running shoes, and not a suit and a pair of his favorite (and expensive) designer dress shoes.

“You didn’t lose the coin toss, did you Tony?” McGee grins, watching him suit up.

Tony gives him a flat stare with a raised eyebrow and quietly goes back under the crime scene tape. Wow, McGee thinks to himself. Tony _really_ doesn’t want the reporters riding along. He sighs. This is going to be a long-ass week. But at least Tony cooked a feast last night and he has leftovers to last him through several days while Delilah is back in Dubai for work for a few days.

“What is Agent DiNozzo going to do?” Deanna asks McGee.

“He’s going to search the dumpsters for more evidence,” McGee tells her.

“Isn’t he the Senior Field Agent?”

“Yep.”

“Shouldn’t you or Agent Bishop be the ones climbing into dumpsters?”

McGee begins stammering. He hasn’t done this since his actual probie days. “Well, uh, I g-guess he’s a hands on kind of g-guy.” He sighs with relief when Gibbs whistles and gestures to them to approach. “Oh good. I think Gibbs is ready to release the scene. You can come in now.”

Gibbs orders McGee and Bishop to walk the reporters through the crime scene and answer questions before he walks away. They spend an uncomfortable few minutes trying futilely to engage Tony in conversation, before McGee and Bishop manage to distract them with information about the new case as well as the details of their crime scene procedures. They ignore the quiet mutterings in Italian from the dumpster. Suddenly they all jump.

“Fuck!!!” Tony growls, loudly and angrily.

“Did you find something?” Bishop asks.

“Bring the camera. Call Ducky back. I got something.” Tony’s head pops up and he slams his hand into the dumpster angrily. “Bishop – suit up. Get in the other dumpster. See if you can find anything else in there.”

“What did you find, Tony?” McGee brings the camera over.

Tony points under the trash. “A severed hand,” he growls. “And I think that there are shell casings kind of under it. I peeked. Haven’t moved the hand. And I can’t fucking move my feet now in case there’s more evidence under them.”

“How do you know it’s related to the sailors that were found dead this morning?” Deanna asks him.

“I don’t but it’s evidence of a crime, and we’re going to process this dumpster and that one as well. Abby’s going to want the contents of both of these back at her lab. McGee, call for a flatbed. Abby’ll want both of these dumpsters as well.”

“What happens if you find that what’s in the dumpster isn’t part of these sailors’ deaths? What if it’s only a coincidence?”

Both Tony and McGee give her a skeptical look. They have rules about coincidences.

“If it doesn’t pertain to our two sailors, and isn’t in our jurisdiction, we’ll hand it over to DC Metro,” Tony says, frowning. He strips off his gloves, hands them to McGee for proper disposal later – Tony is scrupulous about the disposal of his latex these days – and puts fresh gloves on before he drops back down into the dumpster, carefully photographing, bagging and tagging.

“Right hand. Looks masculine, although I suppose that’s sexist,” Tony mutters, slowly uncovering the hand, while McGee takes notes. “Doesn’t look like a lot of blood in here. Could have been cut off post-mortem, I guess, or severed while the owner was alive and dumped here for some reason. Ducky’ll tell us. I suppose we don’t know yet if the person whose hand this is is even dead.” He puts his hands carefully on the bottom of the dumpster and peers under the severed hand. “Shell casings look like they’re .22? Can’t confirm from this angle, though. What did Ducky say about the sailors?”

“He thinks one of them was shot with a .22, three rounds to the chest,” McGee states, looking at Tony’s notes.

“Dammit,” Tony grouses.

“What? Did you find something else?”

“No. I got goop on my hat, McGee. I fucking love this hat,” he says grumpily. “Where the hell is Ducky? Palmer couldn’t find his way out of a goddamned paper bag. What’s the point of a GPS?”

“Wow, you sure are Mister Sunshine this morning, Tony.”

“Har-dy-fuckin’-har.”

“I hope Gibbs brings you coffee soon.”

Tony glares at him.

“Maybe with a couple of shots of whiskey in it to mellow you out,” McGee can’t help but grin at the sight of Tony, standing angrily in the dumpster. He shoots several photos of him like that. Tony snarls as he pops back in and continues bagging and tagging the garbage.

They spend another few hours sifting through the garbage, bagging and tagging everything after Ducky examines the severed hand and removes it. Bishop finds a .22 tossed into the other dumpster which could be one of the murder weapons. Deanna and her cameraman Jon follow Gibbs around as he interviews the witnesses again.

Afterwards, Tony and Gibbs wait for the flatbed to arrive to transport the two empty dumpsters to Abby’s lab while Bishop and McGee drive the reporters back to the Navy Yard.

“You don’t think you’re maybe being a little harsh to the press today, DiNozzo?” Gibbs asks quietly. “You want to tone it down a little, given what we talked about yesterday?”

“Nope,” Tony shrugs. “I never told the SecNav or Vance that I’d be nice to them this week.”

Gibbs sighs. This was going to be a long-ass week for them all. He wrinkles his nose, changing the subject. “You smell.”

Tony grins. “Yes. Yes, I do. Ya think that’ll keep them away from me?”

“It’ll keep everyone away from you.”

“Even you?”

“I would hope that you’ll take a shower before dinner tonight.”

After the dumpsters have been picked up, they get in the NCIS van and drive back with their evidence.

“I’m starving,” Tony complains.

“We’re not stopping to eat while you smell like that. Get the evidence checked in, go shower and maybe you and me can take a lunch break away from the team? Lunch should be off the clock.”

“And away from the reporters?”

Gibbs nods.

Tony grins. “You’re the boss, Boss.”

Without complaint, Tony hauls the massive amounts of evidence to the baggie bunnies and gets it all checked in. Luckily, since Tony and Gibbs openly came out, the baggie bunnies have been much nicer to him, despite the fact that he still flirts shamelessly with them. Somehow he has become acceptable, even though he hasn’t changed his behavior with them.

They rib him about still getting the crap jobs even though he is the team’s Senior Field Agent and Gibbs’ husband to boot. He jokes about how nobody would ever think that Gibbs ever gave him special treatment at work. They ask about the reporters trailing the MCRT, and immediately Tony’s mood darkens. He finishes the task as quickly as he can and runs up to the bullpen to get spare clothes. Scowling darkly when he sees that Deanna is sitting at his desk with a mini-cam, he wipes all expression off his face and stalks over.

“Gibbs is in Autopsy,” Bishop tells him. She is freshly showered and dressed in clean clothes.

“Let me take quick shower and then get a sitrep. Excuse me,” Tony says curtly, as he reaches down past Deanna’s legs to pick up his go bag. Then digs through his cabinet to find his toothbrush and mug. He toes his sneakers off and sniffs them experimentally.

“Ruin your shoes again?” McGee asks, his fingers typing furiously.

“Nope. I think these were spared. Get an ID on the hand?”

“Not yet. It’s coming up as Classified. I’m trying to get access but... Here, you might have the clearance for it, Tony.”

Tony and McGee exchange a look. Normally McGee would hack in, but with the reporters observing they have decided that unauthorized hacking should be minimized, if not avoided. Tony goes to McGee’s desk, carrying his shoes in one hand, and types his credentials in with his other hand.

“Ew, Tony! You really reek.”

“Yes. Yes, I do,” Tony makes a face. “I’d throw the shirt out but it’s my favorite.” Tony’s t-shirt is gray, and has “Semper Fi” on it, a gift from Gibbs from a couple of years ago, something he treasures as one of the things that Gibbs had given him way before their relationship began.

“It’ll be fine after you run it through the washer a few times,” McGee types a few things. “Yes! I’m in! Go get clean, Tony.”

“Why would Agent DiNozzo have different clearance than you, Tim?” Deanna asks.

“Tony is the Senior Field Agent, and he’s been team lead a few times,” McGee says absently. “Plus he’s done so much undercover work, he needs a higher security clearance.”

“Undercover work?” Deanna looks at Tony with interest, noting the dark scowl crossing the man’s face. “You do undercover work?”

Tony glares at McGee, who suddenly clams up. Deanna watches as Tony goes from scowling dangerously to a perfectly blank expression in the span of a half second. He throws his shoes under his desk, and gathers his things, before he pads away in socked feet to the showers. He does not acknowledge Deanna the entire time.

Fifteen minutes later he returns, smelling much better, dressed in a dark gray suit, white shirt, open collar, no tie. He has not bothered to fix his hair, letting it spike up every which way. It is how Gibbs prefers his hair.

“Sitrep!” Gibbs barks. He has returned from Autopsy accompanied by Jon, who looks a little green around the gills.

Deanna watches as McGee, Bishop and Tony stand at attention and deliver their reports. Two sailors, both Petty Officers who were friends and both served on the U.S.S. Abraham Lincoln, out of Norfolk, had just gone on leave. Their records were clean, both were single, with no girlfriends, and good credit ratings. So far there seems to be no reason why they would have been shot and killed, or why a severed hand would be found nearby. The hand is identified as belonging to Lieutenant Frank Richards, Naval Intelligence. It appears to have been severed while the Lieutenant was alive, according to Ducky. So far there seems to be no connection between the hand and the two dead Petty Officers. The gun found did match the bullets in one of the sailors, and the casings belonged to it as well, but everything had been wiped clean, no fingerprints were found. Abby was still working on the ballistics for the second gun used to kill the other sailor, as well as the rest of the mountain of evidence that they had brought back, and Ducky and Palmer were busy in Autopsy.

“Take a lunch break,” Gibbs nods to them. “After that, Bishop and McGee, interview the victim’s families. DiNozzo and I will head to Norfolk to talk to their CO and bunkmates. We need to find out if there is a connection between our sailors and Naval Intelligence. Also find out who the hell Frank Richards is, and why he might have lost his hand.”

“I’ll call some of my contacts,” Tony pulls out his cell phone.

“After lunch,” Gibbs takes Tony’s arm and pushes him to his desk, urging him to grab his weapon and badge.

“I brought my lunch,” McGee says gleefully.

“Me too,” Bishop grinned.

Deanna gets up to go with Gibbs and Tony. “Sorry Miss Harvey, but I have a private lunch date with my husband. Off the clock, and you aren’t invited,” Gibbs tells her, a hint of a grin on his face. “Come on, gorgeous.”

Tony flashes him a grin, and they walk to the elevator, Tony at his customary half step behind Gibbs, on his six.

Deanna sits back down and watches as McGee and Bishop use the microwave in the break room to warm up what looks to be the exact same lunch. “What are you eating?” she asks, curious.

“Chicken parmesan with hand-made linguine and the most amazing marinara sauce you ever tasted,” Bishop says almost reverently.

“And McGee has the same lunch?”

McGee grins. “I sure do. Tony had us over for dinner last night. He made a lot extra cause Delilah’s out of town so I have tons of leftovers for the week.”

“I should have snagged the extra garlic bread,” Bishop says regretfully.

McGee tosses her a small foil-wrapped package. “It’s not garlic bread but it’s Tony’s bread.”

“I take it Agent DiNozzo is a good cook?” Deanna asks.

“Tony is an _amazing_ cook!” McGee raves. “He hand-makes everything! I’m so happy he’s back to cooking for us sometimes.”

“Does he cook for you very often?”

“Maybe once a month, if that. Work keeps us all so busy,” McGee stops to inhale the aroma of his lunch. “It’s good that he doesn’t cook for us that much or I’d be fifty pounds heavier.”

“And who is Delilah?” Deanna asks.

“She’s my girlfriend. She’s out of town this week. For work.”

“What does she do?”

McGee exchanges a glance with Bishop. “Um, that’s classified.” There is no way McGee can tell reporters that his girlfriend works for the DoD.

“I see. Agent Bishop, I see you wear a wedding ring?”

“Yep,” Bishop says. “I’m married.”

“What does your husband do?”

“He’s an attorney,” she says carefully.

“Defense attorney?”

McGee and Bishop exchange another glance. Jake works for the NSA. Not to be mentioned to reporters either. “I’m afraid that’s classified too. Sorry.”

“You guys can order lunch if you like, or grab something close by? I have menus if you want to order in,” McGee offers, changing the subject.

“Seriously? You can’t tell me where your girlfriend or your husband works?”

McGee glares at her, suddenly wondering if he can get away with giving her the cold shoulder the way Tony had been all day.

“Miss Harvey,” Vance’s voice surprises them all. “I’m Leon Vance, Director of NCIS. Personal information is not part of the ride-along, unless the agents consent to it, as you well know. And besides, what Agent McGee’s girlfriend and Agent Bishop’s husband do actually is classified. Please refrain from pestering my agents.”

Deanna has the grace to blush.

“McGee, where is Gibbs?”

“Sir, the Boss took DiNozzo to lunch. We’ve been working this case since 0400. Gibbs said that they’ll be headed out to Norfolk after lunch.”

“Any connection yet between Lieutenant Richards and the petty officers?”

“Not found yet, sir. Still working on it.”

“Tell Gibbs I’d like to see him before they leave for Norfolk?”

“Will do, sir.”

“McGee?”

“Sir?”

“Is that DiNozzo’s chicken parm you and Bishop are having for lunch?”

McGee grins. “Yep. Did you bring your leftovers in too?”

“Nope. Kayla and Jared took it to school for lunch.”

“Makes me glad Jake and I don’t have kids yet,” Bishop says, her mouth full.

Vance grins, shakes his head, and goes up the stairs to his office.

“The Director comes to your dinners?” Deanna asks.

“Only if he’s lucky enough to finagle an invitation,” Bishop says.

When Gibbs and Tony walk back into the bullpen, McGee relays the message and Gibbs heads up the stairs. Tony tosses his coat on his cube wall and throws himself into his chair, putting his feet up and leaning back into an almost prone position. He is speaking into his cell phone, what seems to be a very friendly and flirtatious phone call. He winks at Bishop and beckons to McGee, scribbling something on his notebook.

“Yes, seriously. You know if I told you, I’d have to kill you,” Tony laughingly says into the phone as he shows McGee his notebook and flutters his fingers at him. McGee nods and runs back to his desk, beginning to type furiously. “No you know it. You know what I’m talking about,” Tony’s tone is open and amused. “No! Well you gotta give me a little time before I start looking around. You know me. Can’t pin me down. No matter how hot he looks in a tux. No…I know I should definitely see you in a tux. I bet it’s pretty. No, seriously thanks, I needed that. Sure, shoot me an email or something. I bet. Yeah.” Tony laughs, and Deanna feels the seduction in that laugh even though she is not the target of it. “Awesome, Max. I’ll talk to you soon? Ciao!”

Tony ends the call and immediately goes to stand behind McGee, as does Bishop. “What’s the connection?” Tony mutters, bending so his face is right next to McGee’s. His fingers are tapping some unknown rhythm on the desk next to McGee which drives the junior agent crazy. McGee smacks Tony’s fingers to still them.

“Stop that. You know that drives me nuts,” he complains under his breath, not pausing his work, smoothly resuming his furious typing. “How’d you get this information anyway?”

“Sounded pretty chummy with whoever that was,” Bishop said.

“Guy I used to know in Naval Intelligence,” Tony says absently, eyes on McGee’s screen.

“You date him?” McGee asks.

Tony makes a face. “It’s been a long time, but yeah. Couple dates, maybe.”

“Boss know?”

“It’s ancient history McGoo.”

“Then what’s with the flirting?”

“People expect things from me,” Tony says quietly. “I have my connections and I use them. I don’t need to justify it to you.”

“How about to Gibbs?”

“We’ve talked about it and agreed that if I stopped flirting, a) it might hurt our cases and b) you guys should probably check me for a pulse.”

McGee laughs, his fingers continuing to dance over his keyboard.

“Where’d you guys go for lunch?” Bishop asks, “Try that new sushi place?”

Tony grins at her. “Yeah. It was good. Nice ambience. Dark. Intimate,” his eyebrow quirks as he thinks of Gibbs kissing him in their booth in the back.

“And the food?”

“Meh,” Tony says. “The place two blocks away is better for actual sushi.”

Suddenly all three agents lean back with sharply indrawn breaths.

“Fuck,” McGee breathes quietly.

Tony is on the phone right away, calling Gibbs. “Boss, we have to go to Norfolk. Immediately. Found the connection,” and terminates the call, peering at McGee’s screen. “Tell me I’m not seeing what I’m seeing, Probie.”

“It’s a collective nightmare then,” McGee whines. “Cause I’m definitely seeing it, too.”

“What is it?” Jon the cameraman asks. “I don’t get it.”

Gibbs comes rushing down the stairs. “On the plasma, McGee. Whaddaya got?”

Tony is again on the phone, talking up a storm, while McGee and Bishop go over what they have just discovered. Lieutenant Frank Richards has been reported UA. He is attached to the Biotech lab at Quantico – not a scientist but a security specialist. The two petty officers, Moore and Gonzalez, had been briefly assigned to escort Richards and one of their leading scientists around the Abraham Lincoln for some classified reason. Now both petty officers have been killed, Richards is UA and his severed hand has been recovered. Tony returns from his phone call declaring that the scientist is missing as well. Possibly kidnapped.

McGee pulls up information on the scientist – a forty-something attractive redhead, Dr Gillian Cramer. “Just your type, Boss,” Tony murmurs, slipping back in between McGee and Bishop. Gibbs delivers a gentle headslap.

They look into the work that Dr Cramer is working on. Both McGee and Tony groan.

“Of course, it _had_ to be infectious diseases,” Tony says softly, looking pale.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. I am so, so, sleepy and can't re-read this chapter and edit it again. So hopefully there aren't too many glaring errors. Please let me know if you see anything and I will fix it. In the meantime, off to take a short nap before I start my day. I'll reply to outstanding comments when I can. Good night! And Happy Friday! :)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to [penumbria](http://archiveofourown.org/users/penumbria/pseuds/penumbria) for the lovely artwork!

_They look into the work that Dr Cramer is working on. Both McGee and Tony groan._

_“Of course, it had to be infectious diseases,” Tony says softly, looking pale._

“At least it’s not the plague this time, Tony,” McGee tries to joke.

“So now I get to add smallpox to my resume?” Tony shudders. “No, thanks. Can we get in our hazmat suits for this one? I’ll happily look like a teletubby for this.”

Gibbs glares at Tony.

“Shutting up, Boss,” he sighs.

“McGee, take Bishop and head to Quantico. Speak to Richards’ CO and whoever’s in charge of the biotech lab. Find out if anything is missing. Find out why they needed Richards’ hand and why they could get rid of it. DiNozzo and I will head to Norfolk and talk to people on the Lincoln.”

Gibbs turns to look at the reporters. “This is going to be risky. You’re civilians. You’re sitting this case out.”

“Uh-uh!” Deanna says emphatically. “No way, Gibbs. We have an agreement! All cases, for a week. You can’t just sideline me and Jon just because…”

“There is a credible threat of a smallpox outbreak, Miss Harvey,” Gibbs glares at them. “We are taking this very seriously.”

“We may be civilians, but Jon and I have had extensive vaccinations for this job, and this includes smallpox,” Deanna insists, looking to Jon who nods in agreement, even though he looks less than enthusiastic about staying on the case. “We’re going with you.”

McGee and Bishop stare at the two of them, wondering how quickly Gibbs will toss her out on her ear, but Tony puts a hand on Gibbs’ arm and quirks an eyebrow. It’s not worth the trouble, even if it is for their own good. Their attorneys had been clear on what the agreement stated, and the reporters had signed a waiver. NCIS is not responsible for their health and is not liable if they are injured or harmed in the course of the ride along, given the risks that NCIS agents take every day.

Gibbs’ eyes narrow but he turns away with a snort, unkindly hoping that Deanna will get smallpox. He glares at his team. “You have your orders. Move.”

“We’re all up to date on our smallpox vaccinations, right?” Bishop asks, looking at her teammates.

“Sure, but it’s probably genetically altered so whatever vaccines we’re using is moot,” Tony says fatalistically. “Fuck it. I hate today.”

McGee gives Tony a quick one-armed hug and pats his back as he grabs his gear. “Don’t open any envelopes and for god’s sakes, don’t inhale anything.”

“Funny, McGee, real funny. Take care, you two. Watch your sixes.”

“Gonna be cold at Norfolk. Don’t forget your scarf, Tony,” Bishop reminds him. Tony rolls his eyes in response. Bishop presses Tony’s hand quickly and she and McGee hustle away with Jon.

“You’re with us then?” Gibbs asks, looking at Deanna with distaste.

She nods and shrugs her coat on and grabs her purse, not losing her hold on her mini-cam. “Why all the concern with Agent DiNozzo specifically, Gibbs?” Deanna asks. “Why didn’t Tim and Ellie tell you to ‘watch your six’?”

“Because they know DiNozzo will watch my six for me.”

“Won’t you be watching his six in return?”

Gibbs sighs noisily, not deigning to respond. He jerks his chin at Tony, as he puts his coat on and grabs his gun and badge.

“But that doesn’t explain why Tim and Ellie seemed so concerned about Agent DiNozzo? What was that about the envelopes and that Norfolk will be cold?” Deanna refuses to give up.

“Why don’t you ask him yourself, Miss Harvey?” Gibbs tells her.

Deanna looks at Tony who is in the process of knotting his scarf securely around his neck. “Agent DiNozzo?” she asks.

“It’s classified,” Tony says shortly, not looking at her.

Gibbs tries not to grin. It is rare to witness Tony completely give someone the cold shoulder. He is more likely to put on a mask and feign interest or friendship, or he deflects and only responds with sarcasm and movie quotes, or he pulls out his clown mask and pretends not to understand anything. It is very rare for Tony to treat anyone with this out and out hostility, not even throwing in any sarcastic jokes in his very rare comments to her.

In the elevator, Gibbs stands in front of Tony and makes sure that he is wrapped up tight in his coat and scarf before nodding his approval. They stop to pick up coffee before setting off and Deanna is treated to her first experience riding with Gibbs. She rolls around in the back seat, jerked around by Gibbs’ driving even though she hastily strapped her seat belt on, while Tony, one hand securely in the ‘oh shit’ handle sends texts constantly, and barks orders into his cell phone. Finally he hangs up and sighs.

“The skipper and the XO of the Lincoln will be waiting for us, and they’ll line up everyone we need to speak to, Boss,” he says quietly.

“Who’s their agent afloat?”

“Crossley.”

“What’s he say?”

“Fuck-all. He’s too busy with some sickbay and galley theft issues,” Tony says scornfully.

“Right when they’re docked in Norfolk?”

Tony shrugs. “Several break ins. He’s emailing me what got taken. And now he’s trying to trace Cramer, Richards, Gonzalez and Moore’s last steps.”

Gibbs snorts. “Better off just waiting for us.”

“He probably feels like he needs to do something,” Tony grins. “I think he’s scared of you, Boss. You ever meet him?”

Gibbs shrugs. “Dunno. You?”

“I think he was with Booker’s team right out of FLETC. Then I think he transferred to San Diego. Quiet, bookish. Doesn’t look like a field agent at all.”

Gibbs snorts again. He gives Tony a look. _As if you look like a field agent, gorgeous_ , the message is loud and clear which makes Tony blush a little and look away.

“Gibbs, do you always drive like a maniac?” Deanna yells from the back seat.

Tony hides a grin behind his hand. Gibbs turns and glares at her, before silently turning his head back to the road. In response, he stomps on the gas pedal and speeds up, swerving around traffic.

“Open the window and hang your head out if you have to throw up, Miss Harvey,” Tony tells her. “Gibbs won’t stop for anyone.”

Deanna shoots him a glare, but Tony’s expression is carefully blank and he still has not looked at her or really engaged in conversation with her.

Tony yawns, rubs his eyes, and sips his coffee.

“Get some shuteye. Gonna be a long day, and we may not get much sleep tonight, DiNozzo,” Gibbs tells him.

Tony nods. They have been up since 0300 and he could definitely do with a nap. He puts his coffee in the cup holder, holds his phone in one hand, secures himself to the ‘oh shit’ handle with the other and with years of practice, gets comfortable and goes to sleep quickly.

“Is he really asleep?” Deanna asks.

Gibbs grunts. “Gotta learn to sleep whenever wherever in this line of work,” he tells her.

“What’s up with the extra care with scarves and coats and cold for DiNozzo? Really, Gibbs. We’re looking for the human angle in this story.”

Gibbs remains silent.

“Agent Gibbs? Is he sick?”

“No,” Gibbs says shortly.

“Then what’s the deal?”

“He’s been really sick before. But it is classified,” Gibbs says.

“OK. Is he fit for field work?”

Gibbs glares at her as if she has just asked him if he likes to eat dirt in the playground. “Of _course_ he’s fit. He’s fitter than a lot of other agents because he works at it,” he snaps at her. “Doesn’t mean the rest of us can’t be concerned about him.”

“So there is a good reason why McGee and Bishop were concerned too.”

“He’s the heart of the MCRT,” Gibbs says. “Without him we’d all fall apart. No one would be able to stand me, McGee would be poached by Cyber Crimes and well, I don’t know what Bishop would do. Sure as hell shouldn’t stay with me.”

“You guys are really close knit. I saw that Bishop and McGee had leftovers that came from a dinner that DiNozzo made?”

“More like a family than a team. You meet Abby?”

Deanna shakes her head. “Not yet. She was swamped with evidence.”

“Best forensic scientist ever. She was DiNozzo’s best man,” Gibbs grins, his expression softening as he thinks of Abby.

“Will she speak to me then? Seems like Agent DiNozzo is determined not to.”

Gibbs shrugs.

“McGee said that DiNozzo has higher security clearance not just because of his rank but because of his extensive undercover work?” Deanna is determined to find out more about Tony. “What kind of undercover work would NCIS have to do?”

Gibbs gives her a stare.

“Let me guess. Classified,” Deanna sighs. “Seemed like it was a sore point with your husband.”

Gibbs clears his throat and glances at the sleeping figure. Or the possibly sleeping figure – he still has trouble telling when Tony was actually asleep sometimes.

“He’s done with going undercover in his career now,” Gibbs says quietly, his eyes straying to Tony as he drives. He sighs.

“Why?”

“All this publicity. Too dangerous now. Could be recognized,” Gibbs mutters.

Deanna pauses, having not thought about that. “Oh,” she says as she starts to understand more of Tony’s hostility towards her. “Is he upset about it?”

Gibbs growls and swerves around cars angrily.

“OK, I guess he is. And you are, too. Is he any good?”

“The best on the eastern seaboard,” Gibbs says proudly, and sadly, mourning the end of Tony’s undercover career. He wonders if he should speak to Vance about having Tony teach classes at FLETC or perhaps just for NCIS agents who want to explore working undercover. It might soften the blow for him, and help other agents learn from Tony’s extensive experience.

“What about you? Can’t be easy for you when he goes undercover. So at least a small part of you must be glad he’s done with that?”

Gibbs begins swerving around traffic and speeding up again.

“OK, we’re not talking about this I guess,” Deanna says, trying to balance on the seat without being buffeted about. “How long have McGee and Bishop worked with you?” she switches topics.

“McGee – twelve-thirteen years. Bishop – her third year? Years blur together now.”

“What do you think of them as agents?”

“The best or they wouldn’t be on my team,” Gibbs eyes are scornful as he glances back at her.

Deanna tries to ask more questions but Gibbs is tired of speaking and proceeds to speed up and swerve even more dangerously every time she tries. She ends up sitting quietly, grabbing the handholds, white knuckled while the miles fly by.

Tony’s phone wakes him. “DiNozzo,” he rasps into the phone. He listens for a minute, grunting in response. “Got it. Still on the road. Yeah. Watch your six, McGee. Keep us posted.” He sits up and yawns, carding his fingers through his disheveled hair and reaching for his coffee. He grimaces after a sip – it is cold. Gibbs waits impatiently while Tony fiddles with his phone – replying to texts, checking his email.

“McGee says nothing too suspicious in the lab in Quantico so far. They’ve spoken to Richards’ CO and will be interviewing a bunch of the lab people now – scientists, security people, janitors, everyone. Bishop is tracking down everyone who is off duty too. They can’t be certain but Cramer’s assistant is almost positive that a small amount of their smallpox might be missing. It’s definitely genetically altered, McGee says, but they don’t have an accurate count of the vials. Cramer has the complete inventory on her laptop and that’s missing along with her. The current huge concern is that they haven’t been able to reach one of their lab techs who has access to the bioweapon today. It is his day off, so they haven’t reported him UA.”

“Find the missing lab tech.”

“Bishop’s on it. McGeek is working on trying to figure out Cramer’s files in the cloud and her backup files. Biometrics is needed to get to the pathogen storage and you need two handprints to access it: either Cramer’s or one of her authorized assistant’s handprint _and_ a security officer’s handprint. I guess we know why they needed Richards’ hand now.”

“Lucky it’s not a retinal scan.”

“Unless he’s already dead in which case, a hand, an eye, really doesn’t matter.”

“How much smallpox do they think is missing?”

“They can’t be sure. But possibly ten or so vials.”

“What does that translate to?”

“If aerosolized, ten vials is enough to infect all of Norfolk. And they won’t know because there’s a forty-eight hour incubation period.”

“Lock Norfolk down, now.”

“On it, Boss.”

Tony makes some more calls and barks more orders at some people, cajoles others, and finally he puts the phone down. “Norfolk is on lockdown, Boss. SecNav has been informed,” Deanna doesn’t miss the negative emphasis on the SecNav but focuses on what Tony is saying now.

“No ships in or out, and all vessels that left Norfolk in the last forty-eight hours have been recalled,” he continues. “We have to be in biohazard suits in order to get on the base. CDC’s on their way.”

“What about the town itself?” Deanna asks.

Tony and Gibbs exchange a look.

“What does that mean?” Deanna sounds concerned.

Tony sighs. “SecDef doesn’t want widespread panic,” he says. “They want us to go in and figure out what’s what before they call in the National Guard.”

“But…what about the public? We all have a right to know about this!”

“If the pathogen is airborne, telling people in the city of Norfolk that they’ve possibly been exposed will only cause a mass exodus, spreading the disease even more,” Tony tells her, eyeing her balefully. “It will exponentially increase the possible number of casualties. So if you’re thinking of reporting this, you, personally, will be responsible for the deaths of possibly thousands of your fellow Americans. Think twice about reporting this as ‘breaking news’.”

Deanna stares at him in horror. “It’s my responsibility to keep the public informed…”

Tony gives her a cold stare. “Thousands of deaths will be on your head, Miss Harvey. And it’s against the agreement you signed. This is a human interest piece. You can’t report on this.”

Deanna is silent for a long moment before she nods tightly.

“We go in, figure out the situation. Go from there,” Gibbs says decisively. “Call your uncle if you have issues with that.”

“Hey Boss, if I get smallpox promise me a closed casket? You know me, always a narcissist.”

Gibbs glares at him.

“Shutting up, Boss.”

“Don’t get smallpox,” Gibbs reaches over and puts his hand on the back of Tony’s head and pets him gently. “That’s an order.”

“Got it, Boss,” Tony grins at him. Gibbs pulls his hand back onto the steering wheel as he swerves around a semi and Deanna tumbles around in the back seat.

Tony’s phone buzzes and he swears after he reads the text.

“Abby says the things stolen from the Lincoln’s infirmary can be cannibalized into making the thingy to aerosolize liquids,” he says quietly.

He gets on the phone and begins making more calls. Deanna is fascinated when Tony switches to fluent Spanish for a couple of the calls.

“Dr Cramer’s housekeeper says she hasn’t been home in a week. But that that isn’t abnormal – she sleeps in her lab all the time. Plus she was in Norfolk over the weekend. Bishop is on her way to Cramer’s house to see if they can find anything to tell us where she might have gone or been taken to. Probie is still working on trying to hac – access – her work to figure out exactly what we might be dealing with.”

Gibbs stomps on the gas and they make the four hour drive to Norfolk in just a little over two and a half hours. By the time they arrive, a perimeter has been established outside of the base.

Gibbs, Tony and Deanna don biohazard suits and head in to the base to speak to the captain and XO of the Lincoln. Agent Afloat Crossley meets them as they board the carrier.

“Agent Gibbs, sir,” he snaps to attention.

“Don’t call me sir,” Gibbs snaps. “Sitrep!”

“Uh, sorry sir,” he gulps audibly. Gibbs glares at him, noting that Tony’s description of him was apt. He reminds Gibbs a little of McGee when they first met him in Norfolk, except even back then McGee would occasionally meet his eye and Crossley seems incapable of it. Gibbs is immediately suspicious of anyone who adamantly refuses to look him in the eye. He catches Tony’s attention, eyes flicking to Crossley, and sees Tony’s answering blink. Tony was picking up hinky vibes from the Agent Afloat, too.

Crossley begins reporting that the last time anyone saw Cramer, Richards and Petty Officers Moore and Gonzalez had been at 1800 hours the previous day.

“I want to see security footage of all their activities in the public areas of the Lincoln,” Gibbs snaps.

“Um, I’ll…” Crossley begins stammering.

“On it, Boss,” Tony says. “Crossley, where’s your office?”

Crossley stutters some letters and numbers which confuses Deanna but Tony just nods. Before they leave, the Captain and XO of the Lincoln come over.

“DiNozzo? Is that you under that getup?”

“Skip!” Tony’s smile is evident in his tone. They shake hands and exchange a one-armed hug, made awkward by the biohazard suit that Tony is wearing.

The Captain grins at Tony, looking him up and down. “Other than that biohazard suit, I’d say married life suits you DiNozzo.”

Tony smiles. “Skip, this is my boss, Special Agent Gibbs. We have a press tagalong – Deanna Harvey. Boss, this is Captain Joseph Gilmore. He was skipper of the _Reagan_ when I was Agent Afloat.”

Gilmore shakes Gibbs hand. “Ah, Gibbs. I’ve heard about you,” he says with respect.

Gibbs grunts.

“We miss you as Agent Afloat, DiNozzo. You’re a damn good cop. Any chance you’d swap with Crossley here?”

“Uh, sir?” Crossley can’t help the utterance.

Gilmore barely spares him a glance. Tony sees that look and wonders what is going on as Gilmore, in his experience, has been one of the fairest most level-headed captains he’s ever met or worked with. “Skip, I’m done floating around these days.”

“Not to mention I’m pretty sure Agent Gibbs would murder anyone who tries to put you on a boat these days,” Gilmore grins at Gibbs’ dark expression. “My XO, Callahan.”

Handshakes all around. 

“What’s with the camera?” Callahan nods at Deanna.

“Ask the SecDef. He authorized this,” Gibbs says and Tony’s expression darkens.

“Do what you need to do, DiNozzo. It’s what you always did,” Gilmore says. “Callahan, Crossley and I know this is not a drill but most of the folks on base think it is. Crossley and Callahan will make sure you get what you need. Stop this madness, agents.”

Tony nods. “Working on it, Skip. Boss, I’ll head to Crossley’s office. Will you and Crossley want to start interviewing witnesses?”

“Um, per your request, Agent DiNozzo, I rounded up most of the people we need to talk to to save us time tracking them down. I’ve put them in a room by the brig – Moore and Callahan’s bunkmates, and a few other people who said they saw them,” Crossley says.

“In the same room?” Gibbs growls.

“Uh yes sir.”

“Have you lost your mind?” Gibbs yells. “Rule number 1, never put the suspects together!”

“B-but they’re witnesses…”

“Never assume things! Rule number eight! Do I have to teach you everything?” Gibbs is furious.

“I’ll go separate them,” Crossley says weakly.

“Too late now. With me, Crossley. DiNozzo…”

“On it, Boss. Later, Skip.”

Tony whirls and begins walking, conscious that Deanna has chosen to follow him, but still ignoring her. He strides confidently, seemingly randomly going up and down stairs and down hallways, calling out “Make a hole,” if the hallways are crowded. He leads them to Crossley’s office.

“This is quite the labyrinth,” Deanna says to him.

He grunts and sits down at the computer, and begins typing away.

“You’re familiar with aircraft carriers,” Deanna says.

“Every good NCIS agent does a stint as Agent Afloat,” he tells her absently, concentrating on the screen. “I did my time. It’s good for your career.”

“Did you enjoy your time as Agent Afloat?”

“Sure.”

“Really?”

Tony sighs.

“Why don’t you want to speak to me, Agent DiNozzo?” Deanna asks.

“We’re looking at a possible outbreak of smallpox,” Tony says. “I need to focus on the problem at hand, Miss Harvey.”

“We started out on good terms at the original interview, didn’t we?”

Tony looks at his phone, swipes at it, and realizes that the biohazard suit gloves will not allow him to work the touchscreen. “Fuck!” he growls, and stands abruptly, ignoring Deanna. He wrenches the door open and standing in the doorway looks out.

“Seaman! C’mere,” he barks and Deanna watches as a sailor trots over obediently, and with some trepidation. “I need you to call McGee for me. He’s in my Recents.”

“Sir, yessir,” the sailor stammers. His fingers tremble as he swipes Tony’s phone and dials McGee.

“Put it on speaker,” Tony orders him.

The sailor obeys.

“Thank you,” Tony says, starting to turn away.

“C-can I go now, sir?”

Tony nods and closes the door.

“That was kind of rude. And hot,” Deanna breathes.

Tony glares at her and waits for McGee to answer.

“McGee,” came the response, sounding a little distracted.

“It’s me, you’re on speaker,” Tony is back at the computer, typing away. “Miss Harvey is with me. I need you to do something else for me.”

“Go ahead, Tony.”

“Full background check on Agent Afloat Wendell Crossley. He smells funny.”

“On it. The Agent Afloat? Gibbs’ gut?”

“And mine. And Skip Gilmore’s, if I’m not mistaken. Check him out. Also if you call me you have to give me a few minutes to either call you back or you call me back and I’ll find someone to answer. Biohazard suit gloves don’t work with touch screens.”

“Yikes. That sucks.”

Tony snorts with derision, continuing to type away at Crossley’s workstation.

“Here we go,” he says with satisfaction as he gains access to the security feed. “Tell Abby I’m sending her security footage from the Lincoln for the past seventy-two hours. We need to figure out how Richards’ hand and the Petty Officers ended up in DC when they were last seen in Norfolk. Last seen here around 1830 last night.”

“Small window,” McGee says.

“Yep. I’m going to go through the footage here too, but it’ll be better with Abby’s eyes on it as well. Whaddaya got in Quantico?”

“Big fat squat so far.”

“Cramer’s cloud thingy?”

“Nothing of significance,” McGee sounds frustrated. “I don’t think she trusted backing up to the cloud.”

“I don’t either.”

“I know you don’t, luddite.”

“If I’m a luddite, what the hell is Gibbs?”

“Someone who can answer his flip phone even with a biohazard suit on?”

“Fuck you, McGee. Bishop have anything?”

“Nada.”

“The missing lab tech?”

“Still missing. Unsure if UA or kidnapped. Might be in on it, or another victim, like Richards. We’re checking it out.”

“Don’t assume that Richards is a victim.”

“You’re right Tony. But to willingly give up his dominant hand? I don’t know about that.”

“Yeah.”

“Everything OK over there?” McGee asks, after the pause runs a little long.

“Fine,” Tony says shortly. “Hear from Abby?”

“Inundated with evidence to process.”

“OK. Check in later.”

“Will do, Tony. Hey Tony?”

“What?”

“Don’t get smallpox.”

Tony grunts. “We’ll find out in forty-eight hours,” he mutters.

“You’re definitely a ray of sunshine today, man.”

“Gotta go, McGeek,” Tony tries to end the call, gloved finger swiping ineffectually at his screen. “Fuck!” he growls.

“Can’t hang up on me, can ya?” McGee laughs. “We’ll need you to keep that biohazard suit on every day, Tony.”

Tony growls, “It would serve you right if I got smallpox cause I took my glove off to hang up on you.”

“I’m going. Watch your six, Tony,” McGee hangs up.

Tony starts going through the security footage, fast forwarding through hours of footage, trying to follow Richards’, Cramer’s, Gonzalez’s and Moore’s movements on the Lincoln. He starts writing notes in his notebook and grabs a blank notepad, sketching out their movements on the aircraft carrier. He is convinced there is something here. Once he’s certain he knows their movements for the past seventy two hours, he goes back through the footage and begins following Crossley’s movements.

He gets screen caps of every person they interact with, especially paying attention to anyone who came in contact with Crossley and the research party separately, and sends them to Abby to be ID’ed. All the while, Deanna asks questions that he absently deflects without even thinking about it. His mind is on the work and Deanna’s presence recedes from his mind as he works the case.

He receives an email with IDs for the screen caps he sent to Abby and her preliminary background work on the people that came in contact with their parties. He continues to block Deanna’s entire presence from his mind and, fingers drumming on the desk, looks at the information, trying to keep his mind open and let the patterns come to him. He wishes he could print things out and spread out, but he doesn’t want to leave a trail for Crossley in his own office, so he scrolls through the information on screen. He mutters under his breath, taps his fingers, tries to tug his hair only to be surprised by the biohazard suit helmet, and absently flips through papers on Crossley’s desk.

He finds the folder for the thefts and begins going through that information. Conveniently, the security footage is missing for the times of the thefts. Crossley is definitely hinky, and it’s making him itch. Unless that was smallpox manifesting forty-six hours early. He blocks that train of thought. He really wishes he can call Gibbs to bounce some ideas off of him – that always helps, but Rule 22 is in effect. He goes back to the security footage and now follows a few of Crossley’s contacts’ movements in the past seventy-two hours.

He’s missing something and it’s driving him crazy.

He jumps when he feels a hand on his shoulder. “Whaddaya got, DiNozzo?” Gibbs asks.

Tony turns and sees that Crossley and Gibbs have returned. “Boss, did you get anything from the witnesses?”

“Nobody saw them past 1830 last night. Nobody has anything new to add.” Gibbs shoots Crossley a glare, unspoken is the fact that their statements are practically useless since they had been allowed to stay together and talk to each other. Gibbs hands Tony his notepad with the names of the witnesses that he’d interviewed. One name jumps out to Tony, a person who also came in contact with Crossley in the security footage that Tony reviewed. He points to it silently and Gibbs nods.

“Gels with security footage that I saw – don’t see them anywhere after 1830 but can’t see when they got offboard either,” Tony says. He narrows his eyes and purses his lips, flicking his eyes at Crossley. _Definitely hinky but nothing concrete yet_ , his eyes say to Gibbs.

Gibbs frowns.

“Crossley, I was just going through your file for the thefts onboard the Lincoln,” Tony says, turning his attention to the slight, blond man.

“W-why?” Crossley stammers.

“The timing seems too convenient.”

“You think it’s related to the smallpox thing?”

“Either that or it’s a distraction – to keep you busy.” Tony’s eyes are serious and thoughtful and he sounds like he has just thought of that possibility. Deanna tries not to show surprise – she remembers that the thefts were related, items used to aerosolize liquids. “Probably a distraction. Did you have any contact with Cramer, Richards, Moore or Gonzalez over the weekend?”

“N-no, sir.”

Gibbs’ phone chirps and answers it. “Yeah, Gibbs.”

“Boss, it’s McGee. Are you near Agent Crossley?”

“Yep,” he casually moves towards the door to block the exit, and Tony sees the look in Gibbs eyes, and goes on high alert, ready to move without changing his behavior, body language, or expression.

“We traced a half million dollar payment to a very well-hidden offshore bank account Boss, in Crossley’s half-brother’s name. Brother is a dependent of the state and Crossley has full power of attorney over him and his assets.”

“That so?”

“He’s in on it. You and Tony were right.”

“Got it.” Gibbs hangs up and raises a grim eyebrow at Tony. In a flash both men have their weapons drawn and pointed to Crossley.

“S-sirs?” Crossley looks desperate.

“Don’t move,” Tony says menacingly, keeping his weapon on the agent while Gibbs pats him down and divests him of his gun, backup weapon, and a pocket knife, then cuffs him.

“Don’t call me sir,” Gibbs snarls at him. “Where’s Cramer? And Richards? Is he alive? What happened to the smallpox vials?”

“S-sir?” Crossley looks scared. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir.”

“Stop fucking calling me sir! We know about your half million dollar payment made in the name of your half-brother.”

Crossley deflates, and slumps into a chair. “They made me do it, sir.”

“Who? Granger?” Tony asks.

“H-how’d you know that?”

Tony grins at him, a wide open friendly grin. “Her name appears as a witness you just interviewed, and she was in contact with you and separately the research team. Found her in the security footage.”

Crossley falls silent, breathing harshly. “They threatened me. They threatened my brother. I can’t protect him while I’m afloat.”

“Who else is in on this?”

“I only know Granger.”

“Where’s Cramer and Richards? And the smallpox vials?”

“I don’t know. You have to ask Granger.”

Gibbs gives Tony a look.

“On it, Boss,” he stands. “Where is she now?”

“All the witnesses are still in the brig holding room.”

Deanna makes to follow Tony. “Stay,” he tells her. “I can’t protect you and make a secure arrest at the same time. You’ll put us both in danger. Stay here. I’ll be back.”

Deanna looks at his face and doesn’t dare disobey. She nods and sits back down.

“Watch your six,” Gibbs tells him.

“Yes, Boss.”

Tony disappears. Gibbs keeps asking Crossley questions but it does seem like he does not know anything else. He calls McGee and asks him and Abby to review the security footage and follow Ensign Granger’s movements for the past seventy-two hours and see what she has been up to and who she’s been in contact with.

A half hour later, Tony returns dragging Ensign Rita Granger in cuffs. He shoves her into the tiny office and steps in.

“Boss, I really hope they haven’t aerosolized the smallpox,” he grits out. “Ensign Granger here is an avid fan of Rule number 9.”

Gibbs gasps audibly, seeing the gash in the biohazard suit and the blood dripping from Tony’s bicep onto the floor. Tony’s biohazard suit has been compromised and he has been exposed to whatever may be in the air. He stares in horror at Tony.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the record, this case is completely fictional and I have no idea what 10 vials of any kind of pathogen can do. I am not a scientist, and do not claim to be any kind of expert. Also, I don't know what protocols are with regard to contagions or the possible risk of contagions, but to me it makes sense to not cause panic within the populace, and trigger the flight response, which would then spread the contagion. So again, this is fiction, I made it all up! :D
> 
> Thank you all for your lovely responses! It is so encouraging. Hope you enjoyed this chapter.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to [penumbria](http://archiveofourown.org/users/penumbria/pseuds/penumbria) for her awesome artwork!

_“Boss, I really hope they haven’t aerosolized the smallpox,” he grits out. “Ensign Granger here is an avid fan of Rule number 9.”_

_Gibbs gasps audibly, seeing the gash in the biohazard suit and the blood dripping from Tony’s bicep onto the floor. Tony’s biohazard suit has been compromised and he has been exposed to whatever may be in the air. He stares in horror at Tony._

“W-what?” Granger’s eyes are wild. “No – they didn’t say they were going to aerosolize it! They were just going to sell it!”

“Yeah, nice one, Granger. Always trust the guys you sell your stolen smallpox to not to keep you quiet by, you know, infecting you or anything,” Tony tells her, rolling his eyes. “Seriously, Boss. Closed casket, OK? Let everyone remember me all pretty-like.”

Gibbs smacks the visor of Tony’s biohazard helmet.

“Shutting up, Boss,” came the obedient response. But neither man can hide the concern in their eyes.

“You need medical attention,” Gibbs says.

“’Tis but a flesh wound,” Tony quips, doing a passable John Cleese, pressing on it with a quiet grunt. “Well, guess I can just get out of this annoying gear and use my phone again.”

“No, Tony,” Gibbs says softly.

“Too late now, Boss,” Tony says grimly. “Gotta take it off to see to the arm anyways.”

“No,” Gibbs says again.

“I’m not getting smallpox,” Tony tells him, “cause you ordered me not to. Have I ever disobeyed a direct order?”

“No.”

“Then I’m not gonna start now, am I?” he says reasonably. “At least there aren’t rats involved with smallpox,” he shudders dramatically.

Silently, he fishes a first aid kid out of a drawer. He pulls off his helmet and carefully steps out of the biohazard suit. He takes his dress shirt off and looks at it – the sleeve is bloodied and torn. “Granger, you seriously owe me for this shirt. I loved it.”

Gibbs turns his death glare on Ensign Granger, making her cringe. If Tony gets smallpox, Granger will not live long enough to die of smallpox, he vows grimly.

Granger stares at him wordlessly.

Gibbs helps Tony clean the wound and bandages it tightly, and he pulls his shirt back on. The whole thing takes under five minutes.

“You’re gonna need stitches,” Gibbs says, watching as fresh blood blooms on the bandage. He’d applied butterfly strips, but it was obviously not enough.

“Later,” Tony frowns at Granger and Crossley. He exchanges a look with Gibbs. _Keep them together or interrogate them separately?_

Gibbs nods. They decide to keep the two together.

In under an hour, Gibbs has terrorized them and they have the names of Granger’s accomplices. They work with Callahan and shipboard security to locate and apprehend the accomplices. All of the prisoners are detained and taken off the ship to the Norfolk brig. A couple of hours later, they break the accomplices, finding out where they are holding Cramer, Richards, and the pathogen. Soon after that they find Cramer tied up and alive, but fairly badly beaten up, in a bunker on the base. They also find the remains of Lieutenant Richards. Unfortunately for him, when they cut his hand off, they did not bother to stop the bleeding. Richards bled to death. The quick lockdown of the Norfolk base also made it impossible for them to transport the pathogen. Tony and Gibbs find the smallpox vials and Cramer verifies that all the vials are intact and accounted for.

There are still holes in the story – who killed the two petty officers, and why were they dumped in DC, for instance. And what is the missing lab tech’s involvement in all of this? McGee has verified that the vials were accessed using Richards’ handprint and the missing lab tech’s. But by this time it is almost 0300 and Gibbs is ready to stop for the night. They arrange for the prisoners to be transported back to the Navy Yard and then Tony gets seen by a corpsman who stitches him up and re-bandages his arm.

Afterwards, Gibbs drags Tony into the men’s room and pulls him into the tightest hug he’s ever experienced. Tighter than even Abby’s tight hugs.

“Can’t breathe…” Tony gasps, although his arms go around Gibbs and he returns the hug.

“Don’t you _ever_ do that to me again!” Gibbs yells at him. “You took off your biohazard suit? What were you thinking?? It’s not enough you had the fucking plague? You want smallpox too?”

“The suit was compromised,” Tony says gently. “And we had to stop the bleeding.”

“I don’t care! Next time you keep that fucking biohazard suit on until I say you can take it off! You took ten years off my life today, Tony!”

Tony kisses him, trying to reassure him that he is perfectly fine, and the smallpox is all accounted for, and there is no outbreak, and nobody is in danger any more.

“You think you can just kiss me out of my rant? You think…”

Tony kisses him again, licking at Gibbs’ lips until he reluctantly opens them and succumbs to the thorough deep kiss that Tony gives him, reassuring him of his solid presence. By the time they pull away from each other, Gibbs just stops and stares at Tony, silently running his fingers through the younger man’s hair, over his face, down his body.

“Don’t you ever do that to me again,” Gibbs says quietly. Sadly.

“I’m sorry, babe. I was scared, too,” Tony tells him softly. “But we had to keep it together and fix this whole situation.”

“What a fucking goat rope.”

“It’s fine now, babe. You can stand down now.”

Gibbs pulls Tony back into his arms and just holds him for a long minute, breathing in Tony’s clean scent, feeling him breathe, inhaling and exhaling with quiet regularity, feeling his heart beat in his chest. Reassuring himself that Tony is fine. Finally, he releases the younger man.

“OK now?” Tony asks him, looking him in the eye.

Gibbs nods silently. “Can’t lose you, Tony.”

“You didn’t lose me,” Tony says gently. “I’m right here. I’m fine. We took care of business, like always.”

Gibbs lets out a long breath. “Don’t _ever_ do that to me again, dumbass.”

“I won’t, babe,” Tony breathes softly. Gibbs stares at him for another long minute before they leave the men’s room together, firmly back in work mode.

“Motel?” Tony asks Gibbs, “Or on base quarters?”

“DC,” Gibbs says. “Interrogations at the Navy Yard first thing in the morning.”

Tony nods, checking his watch. They will barely make it back to the Navy Yard in time for maybe an hour’s worth of sleep before their day begins again. They say their goodbyes to Captain Gilmore and his XO and move to their car, Deanna trailing after them. At the car the two men engage in a staring match.

“I had a nap this afternoon, Boss. You’ve been up for twenty-four hours straight.” Tony holds his hand out for the keys.

“You’re injured.”

“Barely a scratch.”

“I saw how many stitches that took.”

“You’re grumpy and you need a nap. Gimme the keys, marine,” Tony insists, blocking the door.

“DiNozzo…” Gibbs says warningly.

“You know I’m right, Boss. Hand them over.”

Gibbs growls and yells but in the end, he lets Tony take the keys and gets in the passenger seat. As Tony starts the drive back to DC, Deanna says, “You know I did get a few hours nap while you guys were finishing up tonight. I can drive if you want.”

“I read the ride-along agreement that you signed,” Tony snaps at her. “You’re only allowed to drive us in an emergency. Emergency is over, Miss Harvey. Take a nap.”

When they are on the interstate, Gibbs winks at Tony, brushes his hand through Tony’s hair briefly, relaxes his body, and lets himself go slack and sleep take him. Tony plugs his iPod into the car and lets the music play softly, singing along in an undertone.

“He’s right, you know?” Halfway to DC, Deanna’s voice makes Tony jump.

“What?”

“Gibbs is right. What he said before? He’s right.”

“He usually is when it comes to work,” Tony says absently.

“He’s definitely right about this.”

“What did he say that you think is so right?”

“That at work you’re all about the case, the victims, the team, and him.”

Tony shrugs. “That’s what a good Senior Field Agent does. It frees the team up to do their job.”

“You did a fair amount of the casework too.”

“It’s my job, Miss Harvey.” Tony glances at Gibbs, smiling a little at seeing him sleep.

“Does your arm hurt?” she ventures cautiously.

“Like a bitch,” Tony says pleasantly. “But I did what the SecNav asked me to do – kept my face pretty for the press.”

“You really didn’t want me following you around,” Deanna says.

Tony gives her a withering look in the rearview mirror before turning his eyes back to the road, suppressing a sigh.

“Gibbs mentioned that your undercover days are probably over now.”

Tony sighs noisily.

“Because of all the publicity appearances that you’ve had to do.”

A muscle twitches in Tony’s jaw but he refuses to say a word.

“And that you were the best undercover operative in the eastern seaboard.”

Tony couldn’t help himself. He stomps on the gas pedal and on the relatively traffic free interstate, the Charger flies far above the posted speed limit. Were. She said ‘were’. His undercover days are now officially in the past tense.

“Is this what all NCIS agents do, if they don’t want to answer questions? They just speed dangerously?”

“Too bad there’s not enough traffic for me to weave around,” Tony mutters.

“Why does it upset you? I would think that it would be safer to be a regular NCIS agent.”

“Did it feel at all _safe_ to you today?” Tony snaps. “No such thing as a regular NCIS agent.”

“So why do you want to make it even harder on yourself and do the undercover work?”

Tony growls quietly, and the car speeds up even more without him even thinking about it.

“I mean, you’re already doing such dangerous and important work. Surely someone else can do the undercover piece? I don’t even know how you could get away with undercover work to begin with. You’re a pretty striking guy. I can’t imagine anyone forgetting you after they get a good look at you.” Her tone is admiring and she openly checks him out.

“He’s good at stepping into somebody else’s shoes and life, Miss Harvey. His work saves lives,” Gibbs’ voice makes both Tony and Deanna jump. “Change the subject before you have to walk home,” Gibbs says grimly.

Tony grimaces at him. Gibbs sits up and moves closer to Tony.

“You need to slow down, gorgeous,” he says softly, eyes flicking to the speedometer.

Tony chuckles, he cannot help himself. “You’re kidding me right?” he grins. He finds it hilarious that Gibbs, of all people, is asking him to drive slower.

Gibbs smiles at him. “I know. But you’re tired. You driving was supposed to keep us below 150 on the drive home.”

Tony slows down, still going at a fast clip, but not going over twice the speed limit.

“Thank you,” Gibbs breathes into his ear before turning to Deanna. “Quit riling him up, Miss Harvey,” he tells her sternly. “And quit hitting on him. I’m right here, you know.”

Tony snickers again, the sound making Gibbs smile. Deanna smiles too.

“I’d hit on you too, Gibbs, but I’m too afraid that you’ll bite my head off.”

“And you think I won’t bite your head off when you’re hitting on DiNozzo? Right in front of me?”

Tony’s laughter is infectious and all three are laughing as they speed dangerously towards DC. Gibbs settles back to sleep and Deanna now stays silent. Tony sings along to his music all the way to the Navy Yard.

At around 0600 they trudge up to the bullpen and see that McGee is slouched in his chair, chin on chest, sleeping, using his jacket as a blanket, and Bishop is sleeping on the floor behind her desk. Tony pulls a blanket from his cabinet and gently covers Bishop with it. Gibbs pulls McGee’s jacket securely around him. There is no sign of Jon.

“Call you a cab?” Gibbs offers coldly.

“Are you guys staying?”

Gibbs looks at his watch. “Not worth going home now. Prisoner interrogations due first thing this morning.”

“Then I’m staying.”

Tony rolls his eyes, pulls another blanket out of his cabinet and points to the spot in front of the plasma. “All yours,” he tells her.

Gibbs pulls him around the corner behind the stairs and they stand in each other’s arms, breathing quietly. Gibbs claims his lips and they kiss each other thoroughly and tenderly.

“How’s the arm?” Gibbs asks.

“Meh,” Tony shrugs.

“Get Ducky to see it when he comes in.”

“OK.”

“Hit the rack, gorgeous,” Gibbs tells him softly, seeing the exhaustion in Tony’s green eyes.

Tony nods and kisses him again. Finally they walk back hand in hand and Gibbs gives Tony a gentle peck on the lips before Tony takes his coat, scarf and suit jacket off and settles into his chair, leaning back horizontally, feet up on his desk and his head pillowed on some piled up manuals and folders on the shelf behind him – obviously not his first time sleeping in his chair, Deanna thinks.

Gibbs covers him with his jacket and runs his fingers through Tony’s hair. Deanna watches as Tony yawns and stretches, spine cracking, making a sound that makes her think of a happy feline as Gibbs rubs his head. Tony turns his head and kisses Gibbs hand sleepily, and Gibbs’ tender smile is so beautiful and filled with love that it hurts Deanna to see it. He squats down, continuing to pet Tony’s head, smiling at the purring. He angles his body so Deanna’s view is blocked by it, and kisses Tony, sweet, gentle kisses to help him get to sleep. He is rewarded with his favorite smile, the open, unmasked, beautiful one that is always filled with love and devotion and is only ever for him. He loves this smile almost more than any verbal declarations of love. He whispers his love in Tony’s ear, and goes to his desk.

A few minutes later, Deanna is surrounded by three sleeping members of the MCRT and Gibbs is sitting at his desk, starting the paperwork on the case, frowning about the details that are still unknown, and sipping coffee. She looks around. It is as if they hadn’t just worked 24-hours straight, running around in biohazard suits and foiling a bioterrorism plot. She gets footage of the sleeping bullpen before she settles down on the floor by the plasma under a blanket that smells like Tony. It is a surreal experience.

Two hours later, McGee kicks Tony’s feet off the table to wake him up, and he springs upright, bouncing on the balls of his feet, arms up, hands clenched in fists.

McGee laughs. “That never gets old, Tony.”

Bishop holds her hand out and Deanna hands her a twenty. Jon is back and filming again.

Tony unclenches his fists and puts his hands down, glancing at his watch. “When does the Boss want to start interrogations?” he says around a yawn. He pulls his toothbrush and mug out from his cabinet, pours water from a bottle of water in, squeezes toothpaste and begins brushing his teeth.

“After he gets back from getting coffee. You probably have fifteen minutes to shower Tony,” McGee says.

“Thanks for getting me up, Probie,” Tony speaks with the toothbrush in his mouth. He rummages around in the cabinet to find a fresh shirt and digs a pair of dark-colored jeans from his go-bag.

“What happened to your arm, Tony?” Bishop notices the state of his arm.

Tony glances down at his bandaged arm. “Suspect had a knife. Biohazard suit is awkward,” he mutters. He makes a mental note to add knife fighting while dressed in a biohazard suit to his training. Damn. He should have brought the damaged suit with him to practice in.

“You should go see Ducky, Tony,” Bishop tells him. “McGee, did you see Tony’s arm?”

“I’m fine, Bishop,” Tony glares at them both, the look much less intimidating with a toothbrush in his mouth, his hair stuck every which way from sleeping at his desk.

“Tony, did this happen before you guys got confirmation that the smallpox wasn’t aerosolized?” McGee asks, shocked.

“Boss’ll be back soon. I’m going to shower,” Tony strides away, completely ignoring McGee’s question.

McGee and Bishop are on their feet and immediately pumping Deanna for information. She is struck by the protectiveness that the team feels for each other, even as they vie for Gibbs’ attention.

When Gibbs returns with coffee and breakfast burritos for his team, all three are sitting at their desks, working hard, following up on leads, trying to piece together more of what they had stumbled upon. He thumps the breakfast on Bishop’s desk for her to distribute, taking his own coffee and burrito.

“DiNozzo, you see Ducky yet?” he barks.

Tony begins making excuses which he ignores with practiced ease.

“Go see Ducky now,” he orders.

“On it, Boss,” Tony sighs, grabbing his coffee cup. “Don’t eat my burrito, Probie,” he warns Bishop and runs off, Gibbs keeping an eye on him until he disappears down the stairwell.

Gibbs glares at McGee, silently ordering him to give him a sitrep.

“The prisoners have arrived from Norfolk, Boss. Including Crossley. Who do you want to interview first?” McGee speaks around a mouthful of burrito.

Gibbs gestures and Bishop jumps up and pulls information on each of the prisoners on the plasma while she munches on her burrito. After Gibbs grunts his preferences, he checks his watch and glances at the elevator.

“Go check on DiNozzo,” he barks at McGee.

“Checking, Boss,” McGee trots to the elevator.

Deanna goes to Gibbs’ desk. “Agent DiNozzo wasn’t kidding when he said that your team isn’t a democracy,” she says.

Gibbs graces her with a glare and a grunt.

“But you’ve all accomplished so much in the past twenty-four hours. It’s impressive.”

“Doing our jobs,” Gibbs tells her.

“Why did you send McGee to check on Agent DiNozzo? I could tell you’d prefer to go yourself.”

“He won’t stand for it.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s not life threatening and not even a serious wound. Which means we carry on as usual and I can’t acknowledge that he’s been hurt unless he does it first.”

“And you agreed to this?”

“Didn’t I tell you he was the boss outside of work?” Gibbs’ eyes twinkle slightly. “You think I had a choice?”

“But this was a work-related injury.”

“I wouldn’t be triple checking other members of my team for a straightforward knife wound to the bicep. So I can’t triple check DiNozzo at work either.”

“Your rules?”

“It’s only fair,” Gibbs grumbles.

“So, _not_ your rules?”

Gibbs stares at her for a minute. “Nope,” he says softly. “But I make McGee do my dirty work for me.”

McGee and Tony return shortly and the glare Tony gives Gibbs is the only proof of his displeasure. He lets McGee report that Ducky has given him the all-clear as he snags his burrito and scarfs it down before they head to interrogation.

For the next thirty-six hours, the MCRT works to uncover a conspiracy to steal and sell smallpox, tracking down other co-conspirators, involving the FBI and Interpol in their investigations. Deanna and Jon are able to get footage not only of work in the bullpen, but also inter-agency rivalry and cooperation, as well as action shots of the MCRT. Deanna cannot believe her luck at being able to film these busts, with multiple agency involvement, led by the NCIS’s MCRT. Not to mention the fact that she manages to get on camera what she knows will be very popular clips of the MCRT all geared up for action – earwigs in ears, NCIS-stenciled Kevlar strapped on to protect center masses, heavy steel-toed boots for kicking open doors (and criminals, if need be).

And lord, the weapons that they strapped onto themselves. Each person’s is slightly different according to personal preferences and strengths. Semi-automatic handguns, large caliber rifles, snug little automatic weapons, knives of all varieties. Deanna’s favorite will be a shot of Gibbs and DiNozzo, standing shoulder to shoulder, a snarl on Gibbs’ face and a feral grin on Tony’s, a rifle slung over Gibbs’ shoulder and a huge automatic weapon across Tony’s body, right before they take their positions. Deanna’s heart pounds especially hard, not just because of the fact that she has been allowed to witness the work of these good men and women, or that adrenalin levels are sky high prior to the op, but also because of how good the MCRT looked. DiNozzo has a wicked looking knife strapped to one muscular thigh and an extra pistol strapped to the other, along with his other equipment and weaponry, and standing next to his blue-eyed husband, who is just as dangerously equipped with weapons, the physiques of both men on show in their snugly fitting tactical gear, makes Deanna’s mouth water as she watches them.

On one of these busts, Tony and McGee pursue suspects on foot and end up having to throw (and catch) a few punches. Tony is particularly proud that he’d ended up with a split lip and McGee with a spectacular shiner. _Fuck you SecNav_ , he thinks as he examines his injury in the men’s room mirror, _here’s how we in the MCRT keep our faces pretty_. He is cheerful and genuinely happy to see the person who clocked him when he and Gibbs continue the interrogations, a stark contrast to Gibbs’ murderous expression, seeing the man who hurt his Tony. They apprehend the missing lab technician in one of these busts – as it turns out, he had been in on it.

Icing on the cake for the reporters, they witness and film Interrogations carried out by the MCRT. They get a dose of scary-interrogation-Gibbs, smart-wily-McGee, fall-into-my-analytical-mindtrap-Bishop, and several different versions of DiNozzo during interrogation. They see charming-DiNozzo, dumb-as-bricks-DiNozzo, rambling-and-babbling-DiNozzo, smug-and-cocky-DiNozzo, understanding-and-compassionate-DiNozzo, and even on one occasion, BAMF-DiNozzo. Vance is present when Tony transforms into the snarling, growling, angry animal, frightening the suspect practically into tears, thus allowing McGee to calm him down and gently extract information out of him.

“How do they do that?” Deanna asks Vance. “How do they know how to act to get the different people to speak?”

“Experience,” Vance says. “Ability to read people and adapt on the fly. My MCRT is the best.”

“Agent DiNozzo is quite the actor,” Jon the cameraman chimes in. “The suspect before this, he was like the nicest, most understanding dude ever, and now this? I’d totally be peeing in my pants if he yelled at me like he just yelled at that dude in there.”

“Gibbs is scarier,” Bishop, who is also observing, comments, her analytical mind comparing the two men. “But he usually leaves Tony to cover most of the other emotions.”

“It doesn’t matter which two of you pair up in interrogation, you guys still get your perps to talk,” Deanna observes.

Vance grins. “There’s a reason why our MCRT’s closure rate is so high, and why our agents are always being poached by other agencies.”

“Without success,” Bishop adds, grinning wickedly.

“Without success,” Vance nods his agreement, concealing his own wicked grin.

After that particular episode, Tony quietly slips into Observation while McGee finishes up with the suspect that he had just frightened into submission. He smiles at Vance and Bishop.

“Interrogations always make me feel like it’s Christmas,” he says cheerfully, no sign of the scarily angry man from just a moment ago. “And it’s hungry-fying work. What do you think, Bishop? Burritos or burgers for lunch?”

“I don’t know, I was thinking that I could do with pizza,” Bishop looks thoughtful.

“You know I can’t say no to pizza,” Tony sighs happily. “I’ll see what the Boss wants. McGee’ll just go with whatever.” Tony yawns and stretches. “I need a nap.”

Jon tries not to gawk at Tony, who now looks more like a sleepy cat than a bad ass federal agent. He wonders how many people who encounter Tony on a regular basis are lulled by the easy-going happy-go-lucky façade that he puts up so easily. He cannot help but wonder where the man drew all that anger and violence from, just a minute ago, and how he could have so easily put it away without a trace.

By midnight of the following day, they are satisfied that they have found everyone involved and have apprehended most of them. The team wraps up the case by the early hours of Thursday morning. Vance sends them home for the day to make up for the 72 hours of almost non-stop work. Tony sits at his desk, one hand propping his head up while the other plays a game one-handed on his phone, waiting for Gibbs to finish his final report. Bishop and McGee have already gone home. It is almost 0200 on Thursday morning and Deanna and Jon are still filming them. When Gibbs is finally ready to go, he shrugs into his coat and scarf, and Tony drags himself up off his chair to do the same, not bothering to stifle a yawn. 

All four trudge to the elevator together wearily. This late at night, the squad room is pretty silent and not too many people are around. While they await the elevator, seeing that the press cameras aren’t pointing at them, Gibbs fingers Tony’s split lip gently and the younger man allows this without flinching.

“Hurt much?” Gibbs asks softly.

“Arm hurts more,” Tony says around a yawn. “No big deal.”

“I couldn’t believe you were so nice to that guy in Interrogation,” Gibbs growls, referring to the guy who’d punched Tony in the face. “He hurt you.”

Tony leans close and whispers in Gibbs’ ear, “SecNav’s MCRT’s pretty faces are now marred though,” and he grins happily, despite the pain it caused him because of his lip.

“You worry me, DiNozzo,” Gibbs smiles back, shaking his head.

“Wouldn’t be me if I didn’t, Boss.”

And Gibbs easily takes Tony’s hand in his and interlaces their fingers, gently pulling him into the elevator, taking their customary positions at the rear of the small box while Deanna and Jon stand in front of them.

“What will you guys be doing for the rest of the day?” Deanna asks.

Tony raises an eyebrow at her question and yawns, instead of answering her.

“Other than sleep, of course,” Deanna adds hastily.

“Are you asking us what we do on our day off?” Gibbs asks.

“Yeah. You have such crazy work lives, how do you let off steam?”

Gibbs ignores her. It is none of her business what he and Tony do on their day off.

“Seriously, Gibbs. What does the MCRT do on their days off? McGee said he’s going to sleep and play computer games. What about you two?”

“Here’s what we’ll be doing,” Tony suddenly answers, “sleep, go grocery shopping, do laundry, run errands, and hopefully after that, get some more sleep. Happy?”

“Sounds pretty normal – I don’t know why I imagined you would do something more lethal or exciting.”

“What, like go bungee jumping or sky-diving or skeet shooting or something?” Tony asks sarcastically.

“No more sky-diving for you DiNozzo,” Gibbs squeezes his hand.

“I know, Boss. I learned my lesson. Although it sure was fun until the landing part.”

The two men smile at each other, thinking of old times. The elevator reaches the garage level and Gibbs nods when the two members of the press wish them good night. He and Tony continue to walk to their car, still holding hands.

Deanna watches as Gibbs opens the door for Tony and leans down to kiss him before getting in the driver’s side.

“They’re an interesting pair,” Jon says, breaking into Deanna’s thoughts. “Really complex. Wouldn’t have thought either of them would be interested in men.”

“Are you stereotyping?”

“I’m just saying. Agent Gibbs, especially, looks like a man’s man.” Jon starts giggling. “Well I guess he _is_ a man’s man now.”

Deanna elbows him. “You want him to look at you like you’re a criminal he has to interrogate?”

“Oh hell no,” Jon shudders. “Not him, or his husband. Tough sons of bitches, both of them.”

“And yet, look how sweet they are to each other, and to their teammates.”

“Well, Agent DiNozzo, may be sweet to his teammates at times. Gibbs is pretty hard on his team.”

“It’s tough love.”

They watch as Gibbs’ car peels out of the parking lot, Deanna shaking her head and shuddering at the memory of sitting in the back seat while Gibbs drives.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My thanks to [penumbria](http://archiveofourown.org/users/penumbria/pseuds/penumbria) for her awesome artwork.

Gibbs and Tony barely have the energy to take their clothes off and brush their teeth before falling into bed. Unlike their usual sleep positions with Tony plastering himself onto Gibbs’ body as is his habit, Gibbs finds himself reversing their positions with him lying on Tony, head on his chest, arm around his body, one leg on top of both of his, holding him close, trying not to think about smallpox and biohazard suits, before they both fall right to sleep. Gibbs wakes up briefly at his usual time at dawn, hits the head, and crawls back into bed, snuggling back into Tony’s warm body and going right back to sleep.

They sleep deeply, waking only when one of their phones rings. Tony is closest, reaching for the offending phone and answering without even opening his eyes.

“DiNozzo,” his voice is husky from sleep.

“Agent DiNozzo? I was trying to reach Agent Gibbs?” a woman’s voice says, sounding annoyingly awake and perky.

“Not on call. Try Balboa,” Tony says curtly, hanging up and tossing the phone back on the night stand, shifting slightly and settling himself more comfortably.

The phone rings again almost immediately. Snarling under his breath Tony reaches over and answers, “DiNozzo,” he growls angrily into the phone. “This better be good.”

“Wait, Agent DiNozzo. Don’t hang up again. It’s not about a case. You haven’t caught a case. Agent Gibbs, please?”

“It’s our day off,” Tony grumbles grumpily around a yawn, vaguely realizing that he has accidentally answered Gibbs’ phone and that Gibbs is still sleeping soundly, head on his belly, one arm and one leg around him, effectively pinning him to the bed.

“I’m sorry to have woken you, Agent DiNozzo. It’s Sarah Porter. The Secretary of the Navy. I’d like to speak to Agent Gibbs, please.”

Tony grunts, his brain refusing to wake up, refusing to process anything after ‘Agent Gibbs’ and ‘it’s not about a case’. “One moment,” he growls at her. He pets Gibbs’ head, caressing his hair, neck and shoulders to rouse him. “Babe. Phone. Babe,” he begins kneading Gibbs’ shoulders.

Gibbs stirs and begins to kiss his belly and his hand reaches for Tony’s dick, “Yum,” he mumbles sleepily.

Tony gasps at the kiss and moans when Gibbs’ hand finds its target. “Babe,” he moans. “Jet. Phone. For you. Fuuck…”

Tony blindly passes the phone to Gibbs who keeps stroking Tony’s burgeoning erection, until the younger man is fully erect, enjoying the younger man’s sounds of pleasure while he absently holds the phone.

“Yeah, Gibbs,” he finally speaks into the phone.

“Agent Gibbs, good afternoon. This is Sarah Porter.”

“Madam Secretary.” Gibbs’ calloused thumb carefully fingers the slit, spreading the pre-cum leaking from Tony’s erect dick while Tony bucks his hips and moans, still barely awake and not fully aware that Gibbs is still on the phone.

“Ahem. I’m sorry to wake you Agent Gibbs, but I wanted to thank you personally for your team’s work on solving the domestic terrorism case and averting a possible worldwide disaster caused by smallpox outbreaks,” Porter says, trying to ignore the soft moans. She tries hard not to blush – Agent DiNozzo is an attractive man and hearing his intimate sounds is making her face heat up. She tries not to imagine what the handsome, silver-haired man is doing to make DiNozzo make those sounds.

Gibbs grunts a reply, refusing to play the SecNav’s game, whatever it was. “Was there something else?” he asks as he strokes the ridge of Tony’s cockhead, and the sensitive underside, smiling as Tony clutches his shoulder, fingers digging in. It has been a few days since they have had a chance to enjoy each other and Sunday night feels like a very long time ago.

“Um, yes. Also, as a thank you and your team for your cooperation with all the work with the press and the ride-along, the SecDef and I have arranged for you and Agent DiNozzo to have dinner tonight, courtesy of us, at Beurre Blanc,” she names one of the most expensive and hard to get in restaurants in DC. She breaks off when she hears a soft “Oh fuck! Oh please,” moaned in the background.

Naughtily, Gibbs grins. “Shh, gorgeous, I’m on the phone,” he tells Tony, who opens his eyes, finally waking up, and gasps in both horror and pleasure when Gibbs licks the moisture off his slit. Gibbs turns back to the phone, “Thank you for the dinner. Email DiNozzo the details.”

“Of course, Agent Gibbs.” She hears frantic whispered calls to “Stop” in the background, melting into a long moan of “Don’t stop.”

“You should do something for the whole team, too,” Gibbs tells her, as if oblivious to the sounds coming from his husband.

Porter clears her throat. “Yes. Of course. For tonight, just for the two of you since I realize you haven’t even had your honeymoon yet.”

“Oh we’ll have a honeymoon before long,” Gibbs says wickedly, as he has clamped the phone between his ear and his shoulder and is stroking Tony’s cock with one hand and has one finger in his tight ass.

Although Tony tries to be silent, mortified that someone is on the phone while Gibbs is naughtily stroking his prostate, it has been several days since they’ve had sex, and he is unable to stop himself from moaning and cursing with his husband’s every stroke. He begins fucking himself onto those clever fingers, trying but failing to stifle his moans.

Gibbs closes his phone and tosses it to the side, conversation over, and takes the inviting velvety hard shaft all the way into his mouth, until he feels the cockhead brush against the back of his throat. Tony’s arched back and roar of “OHFUCK!” makes his own dick harden even more, and he can feel pre-cum dripping down his own erection. He knows he won’t be able to keep teasing Tony for long and will need to bury himself deep into Tony’s inviting heat very soon.

He stops to get the lube from the side table and begins preparing Tony’s body for him, continuing to suck on his cockhead. By the time Tony has been fully prepared, the younger man is on his back, legs spread wide open, head thrown back wantonly, reduced to whimpering and begging for more. Gibbs throws one of Tony’s legs over his shoulder and feels the other curl around his back as he lubes his cock and lines himself up. He stops and gazes at his husband whose lust-glazed green eyes are fixed on his blue ones, and he smiles, brushing his thick head teasingly over Tony’s puckered hole.

“Fuck me, you fucking bastard,” Tony demands when Gibbs stares at him for too long. Gibbs raises an eyebrow at his tone, and Tony immediately goes back to begging. “Please, Jet. Fuck me, please please…”

Gibbs pushes himself completely into Tony’s body in one hard thrust, and the younger man’s strangled scream, and the warm heat of Tony’s body squeezing him makes him almost come right away. He leans down and claims Tony’s lips, kissing him deeply, tenderly, trying to slow them down but Tony refuses to allow him to slow the pace, fucking himself further onto Gibbs’ cock and trying to move, begging and whimpering. When the younger man begins pleading in Italian, Gibbs groans and begins moving, thrusting deep and hard, angling so every stroke brushes against Tony’s prostate. Gibbs’ control is no match for Tony’s guttural cries, Italian love words and imprecations, and his responsive body, and he finds himself slamming himself into his husband with abandon, his mouth hungrily on Tony’s, his tongue fucking the younger man’s in counterpoint to his dick.

It is proving too much for Tony. It is a heady feeling to realize that some woman had been on the phone with Gibbs while he writhed and moaned in the background, Gibbs’ clever fingers stroking him. And now, Gibbs’ hard cock slamming in and out of his body, drilling his prostate, and his own hard and wanting cock trapped in between their sweat-slicked bodies, being brushed over hard muscles and Gibbs’ springy chest hair, combined with the enforced days-long sex drought, and he feels his balls tightening and his muscles readying for orgasm embarrassingly quickly.

He throws his head back, pulling away from Gibbs’ mouth, his hands on Gibbs’ ass pulling him deeper with every thrust, “Oh fuck,” Tony gasps, “Gonna come. Right now, right fucking now, oh _fuck_! Jethro!” He screams Gibbs’ name as thick hot cum explodes from his cock, trapped between their two bodies, and the tremors in his body makes Gibbs lose control, thrusting uncontrollably as he roars his husband’s name, coming hard deep in Tony’s body.

Long minutes later, when Gibbs finally pulls out, the younger man whimpers, eyes closed. Sleep rushes to claim him again.

“Stay,” he mumbles, pulling Gibbs into his arms.

“It’s after 1400,” Gibbs tells him.

“’M sleepy,” the full lips pout enticingly.

Gibbs kisses him, a long, slow kiss, while Tony melts further into the bed, moaning. He pets Tony’s head, brushing his fingers through the soft brown hair, smiling as his husband begins that leonine purr that always comes with his head being petted.

“Silly kitten,” he whispers, dropping soft kisses down the strong line of Tony’s jaw.

“Not a kitten,” Tony mumbles, even as he continues purring. “You made me come without even touching my dick. Fuck…that was good,” he sighs. “Don’t get up yet. I’m still sleepy. Lonely without you.”

“We were together almost the entire time,” Gibbs objects.

“Different. Didn’t get you at home for days,” he grumbles. “Missed you.”

Gibbs smiles and lies back down, gathering his cum-covered husband close. “You’re gorgeous.”

“You’re a bad boy. I can’t believe you made me make those noises with whoever that was on the phone,” Tony blushes. “Who was that?”

“Um. SecNav?”

Tony raises his head “What?”

Gibbs shrugs

“I don’t even like her right now,” he says petulantly, too sated and sleepy to get upset.

Gibbs laughs. “I bet she liked hearing you.”

“Stop. You evil evil man,” Tony says with love, running his hands over his husband’s hard body. “What did she want anyway? Calling us on our day off. Being a voyeur.”

“They’re giving us a free dinner at some fancy restaurant tonight. Beurre Blanc? You ever hear of it?”

“Beurre Blanc? Nice. Pricey. Exclusive.”

“How’s the food?”

“French? I don’t know, never been.”

“Probably have to dress up, huh?”

Tony grins. “We’ll put your new suits to good use one more time, babe.”

“Once more?”

“We’re burning them after this ride along is over. Maybe that’ll keep us out of the spotlight.”

Gibbs chuckles. “Whatever you want, love. But wear your own clothes tonight. We should have a nice night out that we can have good memories about. Wearing those clothes will just taint your memory of tonight.”

“OK,” Tony sighs. “What time is this dinner tonight?”

“She’s emailing you the details.”

Tony grunts and yawns, and as Gibbs continues to pet his head, he purrs and slowly falls back to sleep and after a while, Gibbs carefully extracts himself from the bed with a gentle kiss on his temple. He finds his phone in the bedding, places it back on the night stand and takes a quick shower. Then he gathers his phone and keys, kisses Tony, and whispers that he is going to run errands, leaving his husband sound asleep in their bed.

When Tony finally stirs again, it is almost 1700. He stretches luxuriously, his spine cracking loudly, yawns, and smiles when a steaming mug of hot chocolate is thrust into his face. Humming his satisfaction, he opens his eyes and smiles at Gibbs. Except it is not Gibbs but Abby who is handing him hot chocolate.

Tony immediately sits up and pulls up the sheet, glad that it had at least been covering him from the waist down, but he is embarrassed when he realizes that he has dried cum on his chest.

“Abby? What are you doing here?”

“Hey Tony,” Abby kneels on the bed and kisses his cheek. “Bossman asked me to bring you this and wake you up. He says you’ve slept all day.”

Tony’s eyes flash to the digital clock on the nightstand. He is surprised at how late it is. “Wow, I really have,” he says, yawning. He rubs his eyes with one hand and sips the hot chocolate.

“How’s the arm?”

He shows it to her, neatly re-bandaged by Ducky from the night before. “Keep forgetting it’s there so it must be fine.”

Abby grins and wrinkles her nose. “You really smell like sex right now, Tony,” laughing when he blushes a deep crimson. “I’ll go back downstairs. Bossman says you should shower because the SecNav and SecDef are buying dinner tonight.”

Tony yawns. “They should have bought everyone dinner,” he complains.

“Gibbs says she will do something for everyone soon, but that this is to thank you two specifically.”

Tony grunts derisively. “Did Jet tell you what time the reservation is for?”

“He doesn’t know. Says she emailed you the details.”

They both laugh at that. Everyone knows that emailing Gibbs means he will eventually skim and delete the message a few weeks later. If they’re lucky.

Tony grabs his phone and checks his email, still yawning. “I’m still tired, Abby,” he says, sighing. “Not ready to go back to work tomorrow.”

“Well, it’s Friday tomorrow so only one day then you can get back to bed with Gibbs.”

Tony blushes again at that statement as he scrolls through his email. “Tell Jet the reservation is for 1900. I guess I better get a move on.”

Abby hugs him gingerly and kisses his cheek. “Hey, Tony.”

“What?”

“I’m in bed with you and you’re naked.”

Tony laughs. “Yes you are. And yes I am. You’re not naked though.”

“I don’t want Gibbs to kill me.”

Tony laughs louder. “Get out of here so I can shower.”

Abby points to a spot of dried cum on his lightly furred chest. “Was that you or Gibbs?” she asks curiously.

“Abs!!”

“It’s probably you, though, right?” Abby grins.

“Hey! Abby!!”

“I could run a DNA test if you’re not sure.”

“Get out!” Tony laughingly smacks her with a pillow.

“You guys are just so hot. When will you let me watch?”

Thinking back to Sarah Porter listening to him on the phone makes Tony blush. “Go on now, Abby,” he grins until she backs out of the room and closes the door behind her.

When Tony comes downstairs, he is shaved, showered and dressed. Dark gray suit, light gray dress shirt, collar turned up and a tie slung loosely around his neck, not yet tied, suit jacket on one arm. Gibbs looks at him and his eyes darken with lust. The shirt is tailored to show off Tony’s broad shoulders and hint at the toned muscles underneath.

“You look good,” Gibbs tells him, kissing him hard.

Tony kisses him back, winding his arms around the older man, one hand in Gibbs’ silver hair. With a muffled curse, Gibbs pulls his lips away although one hand has worked itself into Tony’s pants, kneading his bare ass. Tony, true to form, is not wearing any underwear.

“Sorry I slept so long,” Tony mumbles.

“You were exhausted.”

“You better shower, babe, if we’re going to make this reservation. Although what am I saying? With your driving, it’ll only be a ten minute drive.”

Gibbs smacks Tony’s ass as he runs up the stairs to shower. Abby has been quietly watching them, smiling. Tony walks over and hugs her.

“Hey again Abs.” Tony goes into the kitchen and starts rummaging around. “I know we’re going out to eat but I am starving. I haven’t eaten anything since last night.”

“Hey Tony, I just came over to tell you that your reporter lady and her cameraman spent the morning with me today.”

“Yeah? How was that?”

“She asks a lot of questions!”

Tony finally gets a banana and peels it. He feels guilty because it looked as if Gibbs did the grocery run while he was sleeping, and if he had to guess the laundry was probably all done, too.

“Did you wow her with your scientific methods and unparalleled know-how?”

“She seemed to take a shine to Major Mass Spec.”

Tony smiles. “So why’d you come to tell me this?”

Abby sighs. “I don’t know. I didn’t mind her hanging around and that made me feel guilty.”

“Guilty? Why?”

“Cause you hate her and I really want to hate her too.”

“Aw, Abby,” Tony hugs her and kisses her temple, “you don’t hate anyone. I wouldn’t want you to.”

“It felt like I was betraying you.”

Tony smiles. “Just cause I have hang ups doesn’t mean you should let it affect how you feel towards someone.”

“She tried to ask me questions about you and Gibbs, but those I refused to answer.”

“Thank you for that, Abs.”

“She has the hots for you.”

“Not interested.”

“I don’t think she cares.”

Tony sighs. “I’m married.”

“Don’t think she cares,” Abby repeats. “I think you should keep an eye out in case she tries something hinky with you.”

“Jethro already told her to stop hitting on me in front of him.”

Abby gasps. “No!”

Tony starts laughing. “It was pretty funny. She said she would’ve been hitting on him too except he scared her too much.”

“No! What did Gibbs say to that?” Abby’s eyes are wide with delicious shock.

“Something along the lines of if she’s too scared to hit on him, why does she think it’s OK to hit on me right in front of him?”

Abby laughs. “That is awesome!”

“We’ll see if she behaves,” Tony shrugs. “One more day and we’re done! I can’t take all this stupid attention anymore. I want to just go back to normal.”

Abby hugs him. “We’ll be back to our normal boring lives of crime-fighting soon.”

“No more undercover ops for me though,” Tony says, and his voice is soft and sad.

Abby hugs him tighter. “It’ll be OK, Tony.”

He sighs.

Abby kisses him and pulls away. “I’d better go, Tony. I’m waiting on Major Mass Spec for some results so I’m going to head back to work to see what’s up in the lab. Text me photos of the food? Beurre Blanc is supposed to be cool. Artsy. Also romantic.” She winks mischievously.

“Hopefully they won’t be giving us tiny helpings cause I’m starving,” Tony says around a mouthful of banana.

“Have a good dinner. Love you. Give the Bossman a kiss for me,” Abby kisses his cheek, “and not the kind of kiss that you two just exchanged.”

Tony laughs. “Later Abs.”

When Gibbs comes down, he is dressed in one of his own suits, not one of the new ones that Tony had purchased for their interviews. He wants tonight to be a nice dinner, one where Tony can have good memories instead of focusing on the fact that Gibbs was wearing a suit with such negative associations to it. He has on a dark suit, crisp blue shirt, a tie that Tony had given him. Tony smiles and sighs at the sight of his husband. He hums as he happily kisses Gibbs. “So sexy,” he purrs, “I can’t wait to get you out of that suit later.”

Dinner is an intimate, romantic affair – a quiet, private booth in the back of the restaurant, candle light, floor-to-ceiling windows with an amazing view of the Potomac. Tony and Gibbs sit on the same side of the booth, cuddled up rather than across from each other, and enjoy feeding each other food, exchanging kisses and caresses as they eat. Beurre Blanc is one of those restaurants with fixed menus, and they had been signed up for the twelve-course menu. Tony dutifully photographs each beautiful dish and texts them to Abby with a photo of the menu, but he is having so much fun just being with Gibbs that his memory of the dinner is delicious food that was actually substantial enough to sate his hunger, great kisses, and at the end a to-die-for fancy chocolate mousse concoction that they fed each other – Gibbs even forgoing utensils and feeding Tony chocolate mousse with his fingers, growling with desire when Tony sucks on his fingers and smiles that special smile for him. They drink the wines that are recommended with each dish, and thoroughly enjoy themselves, keeping the entire evening free of work or any other issues.

Afterwards, while they wait for the valet to bring Gibbs’ Challenger around, they kiss and continue kissing for long minutes. Tony freely gropes Gibbs while he drives. Clothes litter the house and stairs when they get home, as they move directly up to their bedroom and they make slow, delicious, love to each other.

In the morning, they have a quick, breathless, morning fuck, Tony corkscrewing his hips into Gibbs, making the older man keen desperately until he comes, before they start their day and go to work. In the car, Tony laughs to himself.

“What’s so funny?” Gibbs asks.

“When Harvey asked us what we were going to do on our day off, we missed one very big thing,” he licks his lips and raises his eyebrows.

Gibbs laughs. “Kind of an important thing. But I’m glad you didn’t say that to her.”

“You took care of the errands, and I certainly took care of the sleeping part. But I sure feel like all I did was sleep, eat and fuck.”

“Gorgeous, that _was_ what you did. And you didn’t even eat that much.”

Tony laughs. “Thank god it’s Friday. Not on call this weekend!” he whoops.

“Unless…”

“I know,” he sobers. “Cases permitting. Of course.”

“Last day.” Of the ride along, Gibbs means.

Tony grins happily at him. “I can ignore her for one more day.”

They arrive early and begin the thankless work of finalizing the mounds of paperwork still left to do from the case they had just closed. Deanna and Jon walk in with Bishop and McGee.

“How was your dinner last night, Agent DiNozzo?” Deanna sidles up to Tony’s desk, her tone expectant.

“Fine,” he doesn’t even bother looking up from the screen.

“So I take it neither you nor Agent Gibbs have seen the news?”

“What news?” Tony asks.

“You two made the news this morning.”

Tony frowns at Gibbs, who shrugs. “For the case?” he asks, surprised.

Jon pulls his phone out, “No, man, apparently you were seen having dinner together!”

Tony makes a face. “We eat dinner every night, Jon. That’s what people usually do.”

Jon shows Tony a short video clip, ZNN reporting that their favorite NCIS agents DiNozzo and Gibbs had been spotted at an intimate dinner at Beurre Blanc. There is footage of them eating, feeding each other, even kissing. Tony glares at them and frowns at Gibbs, who comes over with Bishop and McGee to view the news segment.

“Slow news day,” is all Gibbs says, refusing to rise to the bait, which makes Tony smile.

“Do you have any comments, Special Agent Gibbs?” Deanna asks Gibbs.

“Nope,” Gibbs goes back to his desk.

“Do _you_ have any comments, Special Agent DiNozzo?” Deanna tries to engage Tony again.

“Nope,” he answers shortly. He turns to his junior agents. “McGee, Bishop, good morning.”

“Morning Tony.”

“Looked like a nice night for you guys,” Bishop says, quirking her eyebrow at Jon’s phone.

“Yes, it was,” Tony smiles faintly. “How was yours?”

The two junior agents are both in good moods, happy that it is Friday and they are not on call this weekend. McGee is excited just to be able to spend some time with Delilah, who arrived home the previous night. Bishop discusses the fact that she and Jake have signed up for a ballroom dance class and this weekend they will be having their second lesson on the salsa. Abby wanders in to say hello, and ends up sitting in Tony’s lap while Bishop expresses her doubt at her dancing abilities. Even though the reporters are still there and still filming, the fact that it is Friday, and that the team as a whole has had a rough week, and it is the last day with the reporters, makes the atmosphere in the bullpen lighthearted.

Gibbs carefully looks over his glasses at his team and decides to let the morning flow instead of barking at them to get back to work. They have all worked very hard this week. He looks back down at his computer screen, choosing to ignore what is going on.

“I don’t know – I mean, it’s not like anything else I’ve ever done. There’s so much crap to think about and worry about. It’s not like I’m not coordinated or anything. I mean, I’m good at hand to hand and that’s kind of like dancing and has a certain choreography to it. But I’m having real trouble ballroom dancing and I hate that we’re that couple, the ones who need the most help.”

“Overachiever!” Tony coughs into his hand.

Abby smacks his shoulder. “Don’t be mean. How’s Jake at leading? Cause if you just let him do his job, it should really flow better.”

Bishop shrugs. “He’s OK I guess. But I wouldn’t know cause we’re still the idiots stepping on each other’s feet and just feeling stupid at the end of the class.”

Abby makes sympathetic noises. Then her eyes brighten. “Tony! You should help her!”

“Umm, no?” Tony says, still tapping at his keyboard, his eyes on the screen.

“Get up, Tony-boy,” Abby gets off his lap and yanks him to his feet. “Dance with Bishop and let me watch and maybe I can help her.”

Tony sighs and looks at Gibbs’ desk, hoping he will stop this but he has a curious look on his face and jerks his chin for him to get on with it. Tony begins muttering under his breath and looks at Jon who is actively recording this interaction. He considers storming off to make a point, but it would only punish Bishop, who apparently does need help. He sighs inwardly. They are lucky that it is Friday and they have just closed a huge case and completed some spectacular busts, and he’s had a bunch of sleep and sex in the past twenty four hours. He finds that he is in a not-too-terrible mood, despite the cameras still on them.

Sighing noisily, he rolls his eyes and saves his work, fending Abby’s play punches off. “I’m going Abby. Fine.”

Abby claps her hand and cheers.

“Am I humanizing NCIS by doing this?” he asks Jon sarcastically.

Jon, who is filming this, gives him the thumbs up, “Yeah, man.”

“Fuck you, Jon,” Tony says with a scowl. “Come on, Bishop. Salsa, right?”

He pulls Bishop close and carefully adjusts her posture and places her hands on him correctly while Abby finds appropriate music to play off of Tony’s computer. As in everything else, Bishop finds that Tony is a patient teacher, explaining and demonstrating. Then he and Abby help by pointing out her errors, explaining and showing her what she should do to correct them. Even McGee is leaning against his desk, watching closely. Finally, they execute a few simple steps without stumbling.

Tony’s ears turn pink as Abby jumps up and down, clapping her hands.

“Abby,” Gibbs’ voice cuts through the chatter. “Show Bishop how you and Tony would do it.”

Tony looks at Gibbs in surprise. “What?”

“Looks like you showed Bishop the basics. Let’s see a few more steps,” Gibbs’ blue eyes are amused.

Tony blows out a breath, sighing, and he shrugs out of his jacket. “Come on, Abs. You heard the Boss.”

Abby starts the music again and is competently spun into position. They assume an opening pose. The two are of a comparable height with Abby in her platform heels, although the combat boots and skull and crossbones baby-t are at odds with her delicate poise and the latino beat in the background. When they begin moving, Bishop gasps, putting her hands to her mouth. The two move sinuously together, first demonstrating the steps that Tony and Abby had just helped her learn, and then they move into more complicated moves, with Tony spinning Abby, and Abby throwing herself around, confident that Tony will catch her, and before long, the two are laughing with each other, trying to force the other into mis-steps.

Then Tony pulls Bishop in and he dances with both women, ensuring that he keeps to the basic steps with Bishop, while manipulating Abby around, until they all three are laughing too hard to continue. Abby hugs Tony tightly and kisses his cheek soundly.

“It’s always fun to play with you, Tony,” she laughs. Then she looks at Bishop, “was that helpful?”

Bishop’s cheeks are flushed and her eyes dancing happily. “We are _so_ not going to be the worst couple in class tomorrow!” she crows.

“And now, we’ve created a monster,” Tony grins. “McGoo, you wanna come dance with me too?”

“You wish, Tony,” McGee grins.

“Wow if I can get Jake here at lunch, maybe you can give him some pointers, Tony?” Bishop asks.

“Unless we catch a case, sure,” Tony shrugs easily.

“It looks like Abby, you and Tony have danced together before?” Deanna asks the smiling Goth and immediately Tony’s expression sours.

“Have we danced together before?” Abby grins. “Yes. Yes, you can say that.”

“Oh,” Deanna looks at her face, “you weren’t…?”

Abby’s eyes widen and she is shaking her head. “No, nuh-uh, not me and Tony. Nope!”

Tony clears his throat, glaring at both Abby and Deanna.

“No,” Abby says, “We weren’t.”

He nods.

“Not that we wouldn’t have been good together. I mean, seriously, right? It would’ve been good. _Really_ good. But we’ve missed our window now. And we’re best friends and he’s like a brother to me…”

“Abs,” Tony interrupts her, giving her a look.

“Right. Shutting up now,” Abby blushes.

Deanna looks around, wishing that Tony hadn’t shut Abby down. “OK, but you _have_ danced together before.”

“We used to be clubbing buddies,” Abby says. “We used to go out dancing every weekend that we weren’t working. Or week nights that we weren’t working. Back when we were young, beautiful, and full of energy.”

“I dunno. You’re still full of energy, Abs,” McGee says.

“Are you implying that I’m not beautiful or young anymore, Timmy?” Abby’s tone is deceptively innocent.

“No way, Abs. I’m just saying…”

“Although we had a lot of fun last Saturday,” Abby continues, smiling at Tony. “Clubbing together again. Just like old times.”

Tony grins back at her. “It was fun,” he admits. “Although my back was killing me on Sunday.”

“I thought that was cause of me?” Gibbs teases, and Tony coughs and turns crimson.

Abby laughs, patting Tony’s cheek. “I love how the Bossman can always make you blush, Tony.”

“I didn’t know you two went clubbing last Saturday?” Bishop asks.

“Yeah, I thought you said you were too old and too married for that shit, Tony,” McGee says.

“I promised Abby one last time out dancing since I wouldn’t let her throw a bachelor party,” Tony sighs. “She collected last Saturday.”

“You had a good time, mister.”

Tony grins. “It was fun. But seriously, dancing for hours? My back complained all the next day.”

“Luckily Bossman is good with his hands, right?”

Tony glares at Abby. “We aren’t talking about this anymore,” he says firmly, going back to sit behind his desk.

“You sure were so hot all dressed up again,” Abby says. “I missed that part, too, not just the fun we used to have but it was always exciting to see what you would wear.”

“You have pictures?” Bishop wants to know.

Abby whips out her phone and scrolls through before she shows Bishop several shots.

“Tony!” Bishop looks over at him, scandalized.

“Nope. Not talking about this,” Tony repeats, keeping his eyes on his screen, ignoring the fact that McGee, Deanna, Jon and even Gibbs are now looking at the photos.

“Fuck! Gibbs, you let him out looking like that?” Deanna blurts out.

“Trust,” Gibbs looks at Tony, who feels Gibbs’ eyes on him and looks over, eyes meeting. “We have it.”

Tony grins at him, and turns back to his screen.

“Alright – get back to work,” Gibbs says, although he keeps an arm on Abby and when the others have moved away, he whispers, “Print these for me?”

Abby grins wickedly. “On it, Bossman,” she hugs him and offers her cheek for Gibbs to kiss.

The bullpen goes back to normal, quieter than normal since Tony still prefers to be silent while the reporters are around, keeping his focus on the reports that he has to churn out. Things are quiet, and after lunch, McGee and Bishop start working on cold cases as they have completed their reports.

By mid-afternoon, it looks like they will finish out the week quietly, after the non-stop craziness earlier in the week. But then Gibbs comes striding down from MTAC.

“Gear up! Marine’s 6-year-old daughter has been reported missing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tony is definitely mellower on Friday than he has been all week, but it's not so much that he's warmed up to Deanna, but it's the last day and he had a very good Thursday off with Gibbs ;)
> 
> Wanted to also give you all a heads up - the next chapter will be difficult. The case will be very difficult and it might be upsetting, or trigger-y. I ask that you read the summary again and see where we are in the story so I don't give too, too much away without at least warning you about the difficult topic coming up.
> 
> Thank you so much for all the lovely comments and kudos. You guys are the absolute best! :D


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains details of a case that is very difficult, involving child abuse. Please be warned.
> 
> Read the summary to see where we are, and make sure you are aware of the tags. If you would prefer not to go down this path but would still like to continue with the rest of the story, please leave me a comment below letting me know, and I will write a short summary of this chapter in reply to your comment so you don't have to read this chapter, and still not miss what's going on in the story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to [penumbria](http://archiveofourown.org/users/penumbria/pseuds/penumbria) for the amazing artwork.

_“Gear up! Marine’s 6-year-old daughter has been reported missing.”_

The team scrambles, keys thrown around, gear hastily scooped up before heading out. Bishop, Deanna and Tony end up in the NCIS truck while Gibbs, McGee and Jon rush off in the car. Bishop has quickly put out an Amber Alert and is reading out the file to Tony while he drives.

“Monica Brinkmann is the daughter of Marine Sergeant Kyle Brinkmann and Petty Office Francine Brinkmann, currently stationed aboard the _USS Ticonderoga_ located somewhere in the middle east. Monica usually walks to school but did not arrive at school this morning.”

“Why are we only hearing about this now? Why didn’t the school or Sergeant Brinkmann report anything earlier?”

“Apparently, the teachers tried to reach her father but the Sergeant was unreachable, so they waited until they could speak to him. He was out on maneuvers with his unit. He says he gave her her lunch, and she went off to school as usual, and then he left as well. School is only two blocks away, it’s a very safe neighborhood and Monica is not the only one who walks to school alone. No other children have been reported missing.”

Tony sighs. Cases involving children are always difficult.

“Text McGee and make sure he keeps an eye on Gibbs,” Tony tells her quietly.

“On it.”

Deanna wants to ask questions but seeing the set of both Bishop’s and Tony’s jaws, she knows neither will be receptive to questions right now. She concentrates on filming with her little camera, even though she is burning with the need to know why Gibbs needs extra care on this case.

Tony turns to her. “Hold your questions on this one,” he tells her. “A child is missing. It’s more important than your show. Let us do our jobs and don’t distract us.”

Deanna nods. “I’ll still be filming though.”

Tony snorts and shrugs, turning away, but doesn’t object. Deanna has an agreement backed by the SecDef.

They get to Sergeant Brinkmann’s home, a ranch-style house in a neighborhood with identical houses. Gibbs is already speaking with Sergeant Brinkmann, Jon by his side, while McGee has been walking the outside perimeter of the house, looking around. Bishop and DiNozzo end up walking the route to school, looking for clues, before they go in and speak to Monica’s teacher.

She is distraught, crying, and completely second guessing every decision she’d made that day. Tony sits, quietly comforting her, until she is able to answer their questions. He keeps his eyes warm and sympathetic, coaxing information out of her, learning that Monica is quiet and shy and has no best friends, and does not belong in any cliques.

“She was always so quiet, so well behaved, and so good,” Mary Klein starts sobbing again. “Oh my god, how can this be happening? She lives _two blocks_ away! Why didn’t I call the police right away? Why didn’t I do that?”

School policy states that the school must make every effort to contact the parents of an absent child first, before going to the police. Mary Klein was following their procedures, marking Monica as an unexcused absence and, as per school policy, let the office try to contact her parents to find out her status.

Deanna stays silent while Tony and Bishop conduct several interviews. They, of course, speak to Miss Klein, the first-grade teacher. They also speak to the Principal, her Kindergarten teacher from the previous school year, some of the cafeteria and janitorial staff who were still on site. As they silently walk back to the Brinkmann house, Deanna sees that there is a muscle twitching in Tony’s cheek as he silently grinds his teeth in frustration. Both he and Bishop keep looking along the route, this time keeping their eyes at the neighboring houses.

“I don’t see any security cameras,” he says, frustration evident in his voice.

“It’s a safe neighborhood,” Bishop says softly. “Mostly marine families in this neighborhood. They look out for each other. No need for cameras.”

Tony growls angrily. This is why living in the city can be advantageous. There are cameras everywhere.

They get back to the house and report their findings to Gibbs. He curtly orders them to begin canvassing house to house, and that Balboa’s team has been called in to help with the work. Before Tony leaves, he puts his hand in Gibbs’ and squeezes hard, not letting go until he squeezes back. Tony looks deep into Gibbs’ eyes, and the older man sees a fierce resolve in those green pools – they _will_ find Monica. It is not just Gibbs’ crusade. The team will do everything they can to find her.

He nods slightly.

Tony whispers in his ear, “Don’t go off half-cocked on your own, you hear me? I won’t be here after I rescue your ass again. No more going off solo. Where you go, I go. I will not be left out. Or else…” he trails away, “There _will_ be consequences.”

Gibbs nods, swallowing. He knows that Tony is serious. He squeezes Tony’s hand, hard.

Tony nods grimly before he turns away to interview the neighbors.

They work late into the night, speaking to all the neighbors within a few blocks, getting cooperation from Metro PD to help canvass a larger area. Abby and McGee sit and scroll through any security footage they can find in a five block radius, including videos from several nanny cams with even the slightest hint of a view out of a window, trying to identify vehicles and spot anything suspicious.

Bishop and Tony find out that Brinkmann is Monica’s stepfather, who had adopted her as a baby. They track down her biological father who is off the grid, and turns out to be in a commune in LA and has been for two years. He has an ironclad alibi and is concerned, wondering if he should fly to DC although he has given up all parental rights to Monica.

“I was a junkie,” he says candidly, when they speak on video chat via MTAC. “Frannie was wise to sever all ties with me when she got pregnant. But I’ve been sober two years now. I figured I can’t just barge back into Monica’s life. I’ve been emailing Frannie for the past year now, and she sends me photos, and we talk about Monica, but that is it. Being stationed somewhere else in the world, separated from Monica, and so far from her life for the past few months has been hard for her. But I know that she thinks the world of her husband. He’s Monica’s father. He’s been there for her all her life, certainly more than I have.”

“Do you mind if we look at these emails between yourself and Francine?” Tony asks.

“Please go ahead, anything you need,” the man seems to be sincerely worried.

They end up working through the night, taking small cat naps at their desks. They look at any and every connection that they can make to the Brinkmanns and they can find nothing. There is no trace of her. Nobody saw her walking to school. Nobody saw anything past Brinkmann giving her her lunch and seeing her walk off. Deanna and Jon insist on staying, as the agreement said a week, and the MCRT are still working through their first week.

Tempers begin fraying, and everyone is on edge. Balboa’s team works closely with the MCRT and still they cannot find any leads. The Amber Alert has turned up nothing but bad tips.

On Saturday night, forty-two hours after Monica was last seen, and everyone begins grasping at straws, Tony looks through his notebook for the millionth time, trying to find something. Think of something.

Finally he notices a discrepancy. Miss Klein, the first grade teacher had said that Monica was good, quiet, obedient, and had no close friends and did not belong to any group of friends. However, Simon Garcia, her kindergarten teacher had reported that Monica had been a fun-loving, mischievous, friendly child who had a close group of friends, even able to name them half a year after they have left his class, as they had stood out as a unit. Klein had attributed her new quiet behavior to a reaction to her mother being deployed and the child missing her mother. But what if there is another reason?

Tony pulls up information on her friends in kindergarten and begins calling the parents of these kids. All of the parents are up, everyone in the close-knit school system worried about the missing Monica, all of the parents filled with dread, yet unbelievably grateful that it is not their child who is missing. He speaks to the parents of Monica’s former friends and finds out that Monica withdrew from them, and stopped calling or coming over.

The team begins discussing if perhaps she had been bullied by the friends, and had maybe even run away. But Tony keeps looking at the recent class photo of the little girl – she is not smiling and her eyes are unbelievably sad. Tony finally looks at the girl in the photo and looks at some of the other recent pictures that Sergeant Brinkmann had given them. Then he sees it in her eyes. He finally recognizes that look. Those eyes call out to that part of him that he had buried, long ago, but that the Mulroney case had yanked forcefully back out into the open a few months ago.

He sits at his desk, staring at the photos, thinking hard, letting his mind go, exploring that possibility. Finally he opens his eyes. It feels right to him. He remembers the eyes of the other men at Mulroney’s sentencing, his brotherhood of pain. He keeps staring at Monica’s eyes in all of the pictures on his desk. She has the same eyes as his Mulroney brotherhood. She has the same eyes that he had in the pictures that Mulroney sent of him as a child.

“No,” he whispers softly. “No, no, no, no…”

“What is it?” McGee asks, shocked to see how pale Tony is, and his eyes are huge as he paws through the photos on his desk.

“How did I not see this?” Tony says, speaking to himself.

“See what, Tony?” McGee walks over to look at the pictures.

“Look at her eyes, McGee,” Tony’s voice is laced with pain. “Look at her. She’s hurting. Somebody’s _hurting_ her. Somebody like Mulroney.”

McGee glances over at Bishop and Gibbs who come over right away. They crowd around Tony’s desk looking at the photos that they have all been handing out and looking out for the past day and a half.

“Her Kindergarten teacher said she was fun and outgoing and friendly and had lots of friends. Her first grade teacher said she was quiet and obedient and had no friends. She changed,” Tony says, tapping her photos with his finger. “She’s not the same kid this year.”

He spreads the photos and points at her eyes in every one.

“Do you see it?” Tony asks, his voice a soft whisper, his eyes haunted, suddenly having the same sadness and depth that they can now see in the photos of Monica.

Tony scrabbles in a drawer and pulls out a folder. He pulls out the photo of himself, one of the ones that Mulroney had sent to them a few months ago, the one where he is at a beach, shirtless, maybe ten years old with an arm around him but the photo has been cropped and only Mulroney’s arm is in the photo.

Child-Tony’s eyes have the same sadness and pain in them as Monica’s.

“Somebody is hurting her,” Tony says in a strangled voice. “Who is it? Whoever is hurting her has her now. I’m sure of it.”

He quickly hides his photo back in the folder and slams it back in the drawer. His team stare at each other stunned.

“Do you see it?” Tony asks again, finally looking up, and Deanna almost has to turn away at the pain in his wide, green eyes.

Gibbs nods. “I see it, DiNozzo,” he says crisply. “OK. We’re starting over. Look at everyone, and this time, we know what we’re looking for. Someone who has access. Someone who could somehow get away with this.”

“What about Brinkmann?” McGee asks. “He would be the most logical person.”

“He claims she left the house but we haven’t found anyone who saw Monica walking to school yesterday,” Bishop says. “What if she never left the house?”

“Jamison from Balboa’s team is staying with Brinkmann tonight,” Gibbs says. “Call him and make sure he sits on Brinkmann without raising suspicion.”

“On it,” McGee says after a moment, when he realizes that Tony hasn’t responded.

Tony sits, eyes still on the photos, trying to concentrate on breathing. This is not his first child abuse case, not by a long shot, but for some reason, this one is hitting him hard. It is the first child abuse case since his past has come to light and perhaps, knowing that now his entire team knows what he had had to go through, that it somehow has made this different.

“DiNozzo, with me,” Gibbs says, and woodenly Tony gets up and trots after Gibbs, a half step behind him as usual. Gibbs looks at Deanna and shakes his head as she tries to come with them to the elevator. “Just DiNozzo,” he says firmly.

When he stops the elevator, Tony slumps against the wall, turning even paler than before, and to his horror his eyes begin filling with tears. Gibbs takes him in his arms and holds the stiff, prickly body tightly. After a few minutes, his body slowly loosens and melts into the embrace, and he covers his face with his hands and buries himself into Gibbs’ chest. Silent sobs wrack his body and Gibb feels the tears drip onto his shirt. He holds Tony close, rocking him, dropping soft kisses, muttering soothingly, like he does when Tony has night terrors.

Finally, Tony pulls away, scrubbing his eyes, hiccupping softly.

“My poor baby.” Gibbs murmurs, petting him soothingly.

“Poor Monica,” Tony says, his eyes filling again and he knuckles the tears away angrily. “I don’t know why I’m getting like this on this one.”

Gibbs sighs and rubs Tony’s back soothingly. “We’ll get him. We’ll find her.”

Tony nods.

“Come on, you need a break,” Gibbs takes him to Forensics.

Abby has been informed of the new theory, and when Gibbs walks Tony into her lab, his arms around the younger man, practically holding him upright, she immediately goes to his other side, hugging him, whispering softly.

“We’re gonna need your futon, Abs,” Gibbs says softly.

She rushes into her office, pulls it open and watches as Gibbs gently deposits Tony on it. Abby brings a pillow, blanket, and Bert over. The younger man tries to protest that he needs to keep working on the case, but Gibbs is firm.

“You’re way too close to this now, love,” he says gently. “Take a nap and maybe after that we’ll see where your head’s at. OK?”

Abby is surprised when Tony’s eyes fill with tears – in all the years that they have been friends, the only time that she has ever seen him cry was during the Mulroney case, and only after he had been sedated and was stoned out of his mind. This is only the second time that Tony has ever cried in front of her, and the first time that he has done it sober.

“We’ll find Monica. And we’ll take down whoever’s hurting her,” Gibbs promises him.

“No lone wolf,” Tony says softly.

“No lone wolf,” Gibbs agrees.

Tony nods and allows Gibbs to kiss the tears off his face. He lets Gibbs settle him on the futon, and he hugs Bert tightly, feeling a little comforted by his farting noises. Gibbs sits on the floor by his head and pets his hair, running his fingers through his hair, rubbing his scalp, waiting until Tony gives in and begins purring. Gibbs continues his gentle ministrations until Tony falls asleep, then kisses him gently.

“Love you, silly kitten,” he whispers softly, and smiles when Tony frowns, even objecting to the nickname when he is asleep. He smooths the younger man’s brow and gives his head one last pet before he stands, his knees cracking.

“Is he OK, Gibbs?” Abby whispers.

Gibbs frowns. “I don’t know, Abby. But when he saw what he saw in Monica, he pulled out the photo that that animal sent him. Of him. And we could see it then. They both had the same look in their eyes. But he was the one who saw it.”

Abby hugs Gibbs. “He’s strong. He’ll be OK.”

Gibbs nods. “He’ll be OK,” he agrees. He takes a deep breath and blows it out slowly. “Don’t let the reporters see him?”

Abby nods. “Got it, Bossman.”

“Call me when he wakes up.”

In the bullpen, when Deanna asks where Tony is, Gibbs gives her his flat stare, “On a break,” he says, his tone bleak, and for the life of her she does not dare to ask any other questions. The look in Gibbs’ eyes tells her that he will rip out the guts of anyone who dares to ask any more questions about his husband. McGee and Bishop are grimly back at work, trying to find something, anything to corroborate their theory, and get a search warrant for the Brinkmann’s house. They know that they will have to go back to Brinkmann and speak with him, but they have to be careful since it is still very possible that he is a grieving father and not a child abuser.

Gibbs’ phone rings an hour later and he grunts into it. A minute later the elevator dings and DiNozzo walks back into the bullpen. He gives Gibbs a quiet look and sits back at his desk.

“We have a warrant to search the Brinkmann residence,” McGee announces after he gets off the phone.

“Gear up,” Gibbs gives his customary call. “DiNozzo…”

“I’m going with you,” Tony says quietly, his tone is determined. “I’ll go by myself after you leave if I have to.”

Gibbs sighs. He nods. “Fine.”

“We’re coming too,” Deanna says.

Gibbs nods tightly and tells her and Jon to stay out of the way, and put gloves on, and to touch absolutely nothing. They are in too much of a hurry to argue with the reporters at this point. If Monica is still somewhere in Brinkmann’s house, then she has been without food or water for over forty hours.

The MCRT moves silently, all their usual banter silenced by the idea that Monica has been abused and is being kept somewhere in her own house. They drive like maniacs, pulling up to the Brinkmann driveway quicker than Deanna thought possible. She watches as Gibbs knocks on the door and speaks first to Jamison. McGee and Bishop begin searching the rooms, checking everywhere, including the attic. Tony stands next to Gibbs, unable to take his eyes off Brinkmann when he comes out of his bedroom to sit on the sofa, demanding to know why agents are searching his house.

Tony’s accusing eyes pin him to the sofa and silences him. The two men look at each other, and they seem to recognize something in each other, one the predator, one the prey. Brinkmann nods quietly, realizing that it is over.

“There’s a basement,” he says to Gibbs, although he is unable to take his eyes off Tony. He smiles at him, a predatory smile, recognizing what Tony had been and smiling with the knowledge that Tony knows exactly what he is and is not unaffected by him.

Tony’s sharp indrawn breath at Brinkmann’s smile makes his smile widen. He knows exactly who Tony is now, without even knowing the man’s name. “I don’t swing your way,” Brinkmann grins, “but if I did, I could definitely see what a sweet morsel your ass would have been as a child. Might have decided to swing your way after all.”

The strangled sound in Tony’s throat the only warning, Gibbs manages to jump on the younger man, grabbing the gun that he has unholstered, shoving Tony’s face into the wall as he tries to calm the younger man.

“Cuff Brinkmann,” Gibbs barks at Jamison, who is watching wide-eyed as Gibbs keeps the snarling, straining Tony pinned against the wall, getting the gun out of the raging man’s hand.

McGee and Bishop come in to back Jamison up as he begins reading Article 31, cuffs out, leaving Gibbs to handle Tony. Jamison fastens the cuffs onto one of Brinkmann’s wrists, but the Marine manages to grab the young agent’s gun, shoots him once, and McGee, Bishop and Brinkmann shoot simultaneously, McGee double tapping his chest, Bishop hitting his head, just as Brinkmann gets a harmless shot off, bullet going wild and hitting no one as he falls limply to the ground.

“Agent down!” Bishop calls for the EMT while McGee double checks that Brinkmann is dead, kicking the weapon out of reach before he takes his jacket off and pushes it hard onto Jamison’s shoulder where he had been shot.

The gunshots bring Tony back to his senses. He stops struggling and turns in time to see Brinkmann’s brains get blown onto the wall behind him before he falls. He ignores everything and just stands there while Gibbs and his team secure the scene, and the paramedics arrive and take Jamison away.

McGee and Bishop begin photographing and bagging and tagging the scene, working it, while Tony stands there looking at the dead Brinkmann.

“Basement,” he says finally. “He said something about a basement. Did you find the basement?”

McGee and Bishop shake their heads. Tony quietly puts gloves on and starts looking in the kitchen. He and Gibbs find the door to the basement concealed behind a bookcase. McGee and Bishop watch as their senior team members move the bookcase out of the way. They open the door, pull out their weapons, and Gibbs turns the light on. They carefully poke their heads in, and seeing nothing, they start walking down the stairs, ready for anything.

As it turns out, they could not have readied themselves for this. There is a large chest-like freezer in the basement, not far from the steps. Meats, leaking ice cream containers and other frozen foodstuff sit carelessly around the freezer, melting slowly in the cold basement.

Bishop and McGee come down the stairs and watch as Gibbs and DiNozzo stand, dumbly looking at the freezer. They exchange a look, and Bishop gasps as they move quietly, re-holstering their weapons and stepping slowly to the freezer. They open the door. There is a large, sealed cardboard box in it.

“Get Ducky down here,” Gibbs barks. “McGee! Photos and sketch. Bishop, bag and tag.” He looks at Tony and shakes his head.

Tony pales even further but he refuses to move, and watches as Ducky, Palmer and McGee work together to document the process of unboxing the sealed box in the freezer. They finally open the box and find the small, blanket-wrapped figure of Monica Brinkmann, folded up into the box. When Ducky and Palmer finally take her away, he finds himself sitting on the basement step, head in his hands, just sitting there. By unspoken agreement, the MCRT work carefully around him and even Deanna and Jon understand that something has just happened. Nobody touches him or talks to him at all as he sits on the steps, staring at the freezer.

It is morning before they are done processing the scene, they have worked straight through the night. Jamison will be fine, the shot had been through and through, miraculously missing bone and therefore he would be back at work shortly. When they are finally ready to leave the house, Gibbs sits on the step next to Tony, gently puts his arm around the younger man, and speaks softly in his ear.

Tony’s reactions are silent – a nod here, a shrug there. Finally, Gibbs pulls him to his feet, and holding on to his arm, leads him to the car where he bundles the younger man into the back seat. He throws the keys to McGee, nodding at him to drive, and he gets in the back and pulls Tony into his arms. Tony’s green eyes are wide, blinking slowly every so often, and he clutches a handful of Gibbs’ shirt, but other than that, he says and does nothing. Deanna sits in the passenger seat, unsure what is happening. Bishop drives the truck back with Jon.

Tony seems almost catatonic at this point. Gibbs holds him close, petting him gently, murmuring softly in his ear. McGee stops Deanna from filming any of this.

“Don’t make me break your camera,” he tells her softly.

Deanna nods, putting it away. Gibbs is soothing DiNozzo, ignoring her completely, continuing to speak softly – too softly for her to hear the words.

When they get to the Navy Yard, Tony seems to become more alert. “Need to see Monica,” he tells Gibbs.

“No, love, you don’t need to see her.”

Tony looks at him. “I have to,” he says, his eyes pleading.

Gibbs sighs. “She’s in autopsy. Ducky will be working on her.”

“I know,” Tony says.

And Deanna watches as Tony walks off the elevator to Autopsy, to go and stand watch as Ducky and Palmer work, witnessing the entire post-mortem, witnessing as Ducky and Palmer catalogue every atrocity that has been done to her. He stands, unmoving, arms wrapped around his body, chewing on his fingernails. When it is finally done, he takes a deep breath and stands stiffly when Ducky and Palmer both give him gentle hugs.

“Anthony,” Ducky says, “perhaps you should go home?”

Tony shakes his head. “I have paperwork to do,” he mutters, “There’s always paperwork.”

Palmer calls Gibbs who comes down and listens to the results of the Autopsy. There were signs that Monica had been sexually abused, starting probably after her mother had been deployed and Brinkmann became a single parent. Cause of death had been strangulation, her neck had been covered in hand-shaped bruises which matched Kyle Brinkmann’s handprints. The freezer had made it challenging to calculate a time of death, but Ducky believes it was between 10 PM and midnight on Thursday night.

McGee informs Monica’s biological father, and is working to get a hold of Francine Brinkmann to notify her. Then Gibbs puts his arms around Tony.

“Wanna go home?” he asks gently.

Tony shakes his head, still mute.

“I’m worried about you.”

“I’m not the one you should worry about. I survived it,” Tony says softly, “she didn’t.”

“I know.”

“It’s not fair.”

“I know.”

Tony bites his lips, unable to stop the hot flood of tears in his eyes. “It could have been me,” he finally says.

“I know,” Gibbs cups his face and looks in his eyes. “I thank every god I can think of that it wasn’t you. That this didn’t happen to you. That you survived it. That you’re here with me,” he says.

“He put her in a box,” Tony’s voice breaks, and the tears trickle down his face.

“I know, love.”

“She didn’t deserve that.”

“No, she didn’t.”

“She’s just a little girl. Younger than I was.”

“I know.”

“He put her in a _fucking box_ , Jethro! Then he stuck her in the freezer!”

“I know.”

“You should have let me shoot him.”

“I know.”

“Jamison OK?”

“He’ll be back at work soon.”

“Good,” Tony nods. “I really wish I’d shot him.”

“I don’t,” Gibbs says, “cause then we’d be having this conversation in prison.”

“Worth it,” Tony says angrily.

“Not to me.”

Tony blinks his tears away. “Fucking baby,” he says derisively, knuckling his eyes.

“Never,” Gibbs tenderly wipes his tears away with his thumb.

Tony takes a deep breath and slowly lets it out. “Why was this one so hard?”

“First one after…”

Tony nods.

“Maybe we should call Rachel?”

Tony shrugs. “I dunno. Maybe. Let me think about it.”

Gibbs nods, caressing Tony’s face, sighing when Tony finally closes his eyes and leans into his touch. Finally allowing himself to take comfort. They end up sitting on the floor by the door of the slab where Monica had been put in for another hour, Tony leaning against Gibbs’ strong shoulder, Gibbs’ arm around him rubbing his arm and shoulder soothingly.

McGee and Bishop come looking for them after an hour has passed.

“Uh Boss, we’re done with our reports,” McGee says.

“Thanks. You can go home,” Gibbs tells them. Tony shows no sign that he is even aware that McGee and Bishop are there.

“Boss?” McGee says hesitantly.

“Yeah.”

“Um, I did most of Tony’s reports too. I emailed them to him. He just needs to review, edit, put his finishing touches and sign them.”

Gibbs smiles at McGee, a real smile. “Thanks McGee. That was very thoughtful.”

McGee smiles back. “It’s only fitting. He’s been fixing my reports forever. About time I did some reports for him.”

Gibbs nods, continuing to rub Tony’s arms, gentle, soothing circles.

Bishop kneels down and carefully hugs Tony and kisses his cheek. “Feel better, Tony,” she whispers, and is gratified when she sees the slightest nod from him.

“Can we get you or Tony anything, Boss?” McGee asks.

Gibbs shakes his head. “I got him. You can go. You did good, McGee, Bishop.”

They both flush with pleasure at the compliment, hard earned and rare. After they leave Autopsy, Gibbs begins speaking to Tony, coaxing him to get up.

“I know you don’t want to leave her, love, but nobody can hurt her now,” Gibbs says softly. He ignores the stab of pain that goes through him, thinking of his own long-dead daughter, who also cannot be hurt anymore, but who is still with him every single day of his life.

Tony nods, and stands up, pulling Gibbs up with him. “McGee did my reports?” he says in a surprisingly normal voice.

“Probie’s all grown up,” Gibbs says, smiling.

Tony smiles back, a small smile. “About time.”

They walk up the stairs back to the bullpen where they find that McGee and Bishop are still waiting for Gibbs and Tony to return, since Deanna and Jon are still there. Neither junior agent felt like they should leave before Gibbs and Tony do, in case they need to run interference.

“Case is over,” Gibbs glares at Deanna. “Time’s up for the ride-along. Leave.”

Jon begins packing his stuff while Deanna tries to argue. Gibbs ignores her, watching as Tony sits at his desk and begins putting things in his backpack.

“Care to comment about the ZNN piece about the two of you having dinner at Beurre Blanc on Thursday night?” Deanna changes the subject.

Gibbs gives her a bleak stare. “No.”

Deanna gives him a small smile. “It’s been quite the ride, Agent Gibbs. Thank you for the experience.”

Gibbs nods curtly. “We all have veto power so edit your piece on us carefully.”

Deanna nods. She starts gathering her things together. In the meantime, Tony checks his phone and listens to a voicemail from his father. Just ‘checking in’ to see ‘how he’s doing’, no doubt in some kind of position where Tony investing money would solve all his problems. He hangs up the phone and carefully places it in his pocket, and begins panting angrily. It is the first phone call he has received from him in months. They have not had any contact, not since Gibbs told the man to leave. He looks at Gibbs, willing him to look at him and see that he is at the end of his rope, but Gibbs is still talking to Deanna.

Suddenly, he takes his phone out of his pocket and hurls it at the plate-glass windows. The sound of the phone shattering is loud in the quiet Sunday evening squadroom.

“Tony?” Gibbs runs to Tony’s desk, just as he roars and sweeps all the papers and folders, including his inbox onto the floor and then he stalks off to the men’s room.

Gibbs catches McGee’s eye and the junior agent nods and scampers off after his senior field agent. Bishop just stares at the mess on the floor and Tony’s broken phone, and stares back at Gibbs. Gibbs sighs and goes to pick up Tony’s mess of a phone. He hands it to Bishop – he doesn’t know if it’s salvageable, but maybe the information on it is and can be transferred to a new phone. Abby and McGee will work their magic on it.

McGee returns, and whispers in Gibbs ear, “His dad left him a voicemail.”

Gibbs resists the urge to groan and bury his head in his hands. Today, of all days, for his dad to try to get back in touch, what a disaster.

“Fuck,” Gibbs says with feeling.

McGee nods. Before anything else happens, Tony slouches back and begins picking the papers and folders up. When Bishop tries to help him, he snarls at her, “Rule 45,” and she backs away.

Tony is almost done picking up and putting his desk back to order when he finds a thin, blue envelope. He recognizes Mulroney’s handwriting. Mulroney’s weekly or so letter to him. He sits down heavily on the floor, breathless. “Jethro…” he manages to croak out.

Gibbs is beside him in a flash.

Tony hands him the letter, fingers trembling. “Pancakes,” he whispers to Gibbs, finally using his safe word, and then slams his head back against his desk twice, so hard that he sees stars. He slumps back against his desk, eyes glassy, staring unseeingly out the window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I was able to warn everyone about this chapter. It was very difficult for me to write, and I hated that I even thought of the things that happened in this chapter. But it fit in this story, so I included it.
> 
> Much love and thanks for all your support, kudos and comments. I will respond to all remaining comments later today.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to say that I wrote the story up to the first part of this chapter fairly soon after finishing The Past is the Past. But I think, that I did break myself somewhat writing the previous chapter, as I got stuck here for months, unable to progress. Perhaps I also called pancakes. But a few weeks ago I looked at this again, and finally knew how to get to the end, so I was finally able to get unstuck and complete the story. Should be 2-3 more chapters only after this. Thanks for sticking with me through the last chapter, which I know was difficult. For me, as well. :)
> 
>  
> 
> My thanks to [penumbria](http://archiveofourown.org/users/penumbria/pseuds/penumbria) for her lovely artwork!

_Tony hands him the letter, fingers trembling. “Pancakes,” he whispers to Gibbs, finally using his safe word, and then slams his head back against his desk twice, so hard that he sees stars. He slumps back against his desk, eyes glassy, staring unseeingly out the window._

“McGee,” Gibbs barks, handing him the letter.

Mulroney has been writing to Tony from prison on a weekly basis, but Tony refuses to read any of it. McGee has been the one scanning through them and putting them in a folder for their records to ensure that Mulroney isn’t threatening Tony in any way. Mostly, the letters contain is disgusting details that McGee would rather not have in his head, but he will not let anyone else take on this burden for Tony. If his friend had had to live through it, surely he can read these words to ensure that he does not have to relive it, and at the same time ensure that Mulroney is not up to something that could cause problems for Tony.

Bishop ensures that neither Jon nor Deanna are filming any of this. Luckily, they had already put their gear away, ready to leave the Navy Yard. Bishop stands there, preventing them from pulling their cameras back out, her expression hostile.

Gibbs feels the back of Tony’s head carefully. He will have a bump there but a cursory check of his eyes reveal that he is not concussed. “Come on, let’s go home, OK?” Gibbs says, carefully helping Tony up. He gets Tony’s backpack, sticks his weapon and creds in his jacket pocket, nods to his team and gently leads the younger man to the elevator, arm securely around him. Tony is completely silent and still, eyes remaining glassy for the entire drive home.

He seems to be back to the almost-catatonic state from earlier, and Gibbs wrestles him into the house, up to the bedroom, strips him and tucks him into bed. He gets in the bed and holds Tony, whispering words of love and protection until Tony’s eyes close and he seems to fall asleep, curled up as small as he can make himself, lying on his side. Gibbs pets him, and for once, Tony is unresponsive, seeming to be in such a deep sleep that he is completely unaware of his surroundings and of Gibbs’ presence. The older man sighs and continues to caress his husband, trying not to freak out completely – the sleeping man is a husk of his beloved Tony and Tony is usually a huge, vibrant presence, even when he is asleep.

He stays, petting the younger man soothingly for a long while without a response. When he finally goes downstairs, Ducky is waiting in the living room.

“Young Timothy called me, Jethro,” the elderly ME says.

“He’s sleeping, I think, but I don’t like it. He’s not responding to me. No movements, no reactions, nothing,” Gibbs says, scrubbing his face. “God, Ducky. He was doing so well.”

Ducky nods sadly.

“He had a really hard time with all the press and the publicity appearances. He’s mourning the death of his undercover career. And the ride along thing – he loathes that woman, Ducky. And then, Monica Brinkmann? He’s the one who saw her and figured out what she was going through, Duck. He looked at her picture, looked at her eyes, and he knew. He just knew what she was going through. And now, did McGee tell you his dad left him a voicemail? And the terrible timing of that animal’s letter?” Gibbs growls the last two sentences. “It’s too much for one person in one go.”

“I’m going to recommend he take a few days off. And I will give you leave as well, to be with him.”

Gibbs nods. “Thanks, Duck. You want to go up and check on him? Make sure he’s OK?”

Ducky goes up, and examines Tony gently, worrying when the younger man doesn’t awaken when he puts the blood pressure cuff on. Gibbs watches him anxiously from the doorway. Finally, Ducky gently strokes Tony’s head before getting up and leading Gibbs back downstairs.

“It’s almost as if he is sedated,” Ducky says softly, “his brain has shut his body down. I would recommend allowing him to sleep and letting him wake up whenever he is ready.”

“That sounds bad, Duck. What if that’s not till tomorrow?”

“Then he will wake up tomorrow.”

“What if he doesn’t wake up tomorrow?”

“Then we will try something else.”

Gibbs sits heavily. “What should I do now?”

Ducky puts a hand on Gibbs’ shoulder. “Be here for him, the way you have been, Jethro. Anthony is strong. He will come back to you.”

“He has to,” Gibbs says.

“He will. Anthony is strong.”

Gibbs scrubs his face.

“How are _you_ doing in all this, Jethro?” Ducky asks carefully. “This case was difficult for all of us. Certainly it turned out to be even more difficult for Anthony. But what about you? Are you coping all right?”

“I’m just worried about Tony,” Gibbs sighs.

Ducky sighs, knowing that Gibbs is only internalizing his own issues with this case, but thinking that perhaps focusing on Tony’s well-being is helping Gibbs not focus on his own grief and loss. “To be honest, Jethro, I am amazed that it took this long for young Anthony to get such a strong reaction.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was expecting this kind of shutdown during the Mulroney case,” Ducky says, his eyes serious. “Anthony has been internalizing far too much in his life, and I expected this then. However, he surprised me by being as resilient as he was – I don’t know why I was surprised, really, since he has a track record of doing the unexpected and pulling through when others would not.”

Gibbs smiles. “He pulled through that awful time really well, didn’t he?”

“I’m sure the two of you beginning your relationship at the time helped him greatly.”

“I hope so, Duck. I know I…needed it. I needed…him. I still do.”

Ducky squeezes Gibbs shoulder comfortingly. “Come, Jethro, you need a coffee. I shall take tea, if you don’t mind.”

Gibbs nods and gets busy in the kitchen. He finds the tin of cookies that Tony keeps for Ducky, knowing that the ME enjoys ‘biscuits’ with his tea sometimes. He places the cookies on a plate and brings it to Ducky.

“Tony keeps these on hand for you,” he says, sitting down at the kitchen table with his cup of coffee.

“Thank you, Jethro. Anthony knows just what I like,” Ducky says, dunking the cookie in his tea.

“The house feels so empty,” Gibbs says, looking around. “Even when he’s quiet, I can usually feel his presence. But I can’t feel him right now.”

Ducky places a hand gently over Gibbs’ hand. “Have faith, Jethro. Anthony just needs a little time. He will be back to his normal self before you know it.”

Gibbs swallows and nods. They sit together quietly, checking on Tony every so often. That evening, McGee, Bishop, Palmer and Abby join them, a subdued dinner. Abby goes up and lies down next to Tony, hugging him, petting his hair.

“Sleep tight, Tony,” she whispers, “when you wake up, it will all be OK again.”

That night, Gibbs slips into the bed and curls up facing Tony. He caresses Tony’s face, running his fingers over Tony’s eyebrows, eyelids, flicking his fingers against his long lashes, his nose, his strong jawline, his lips – still slightly swollen from being punched a few days ago. The stillness is unnatural – even when Tony is asleep, he is normally responsive to Gibbs’ touch. Purring if his head is rubbed, moaning sleepily if his neck is kissed. This quiet, deep sleep is disturbing. Gibbs settles in the bed, and when Tony doesn’t plaster himself on his chest like he normally does, he gently tugs and pulls until the younger man is uncurled and settled in his customary sleeping position, head on his chest, arm around him, one leg in between his. He rubs Tony’s back and lies there for a long time, trying not to think too much, counting Tony’s shallow, even breaths, kissing his hair and whispering desperate promises.

When Gibbs opens his gummy eyes after finally falling asleep for only a few hours, the sun is streaming through the window. He immediately kisses Tony, who is still in his arms. Tony moans and mumbles unintelligibly before he settles back to sleep. Gibbs’ eyes open in a flash when he realizes that Tony had responded to him. He smiles and holds him close, gently rubbing Tony’s back.

Tony hums appreciatively, stirring but not awakening.

Heart pounding with relief, Gibbs tightens his hold on his husband, smiling like an idiot. Tony might be asleep, but he is now sleeping like he normally does. The acid test. Gibbs begins petting Tony’s head. The younger man stretches and begins purring in his sleep. Gibbs laughs aloud, continuing to pet Tony, enjoying the sounds that he makes.

He disentangles himself from Tony to relieve his bladder and calls Ducky to give him the update before he crawls back into bed. He sits propped against the headboard and Tony moves to put his head on his lap and curls an arm around the older man’s thighs. Gibbs smiles, puts his reading glasses on, and picks up the book on his nightstand. He reads, but the whole time, one of his hands is caressing some part of Tony’s body, some part of his soft hair or his golden skin.

Around lunch time he hears footsteps downstairs and Abby pokes her head in quietly. She tiptoes in and hands Gibbs his first coffee of the day and a bag of donuts.

“I was hoping Tony would smell the donuts and wake up,” she whispers.

Gibbs smiles and holds his arm open. She sits on the bed and curls her body against him, taking the offered hug.

“He’ll be OK,” Gibbs smiles.

“You’re not as worried as you were last night.”

“Look,” Gibbs says, and runs his fingers down Tony’s neck. Tony moans and smiles in his sleep. “He’s definitely coming back,” he smiles.

Abby grins. “Aw, he’s so cute.”

“Yes he is,” Gibbs says, smiling at her, continuing to caress Tony with his fingers. “He wasn’t responding to my touch last night. He is today.”

Abby smiles. She strokes Tony’s hair, and he sighs. “He doesn’t do that thing he does when you rub his head when I rub his head,” she says to Gibbs.

He smiles, his blue eyes twinkling. “I call it purring.”

“That’s it, exactly!” Abby grins. “Make him purr, Bossman.”

Gibbs runs his fingers through Tony’s hair and begins rubbing his scalp gently. The younger man smiles in his sleep and begins that throaty purr.

“Awww,” Abby smiles down at her sleeping friend. “He’s like a cat.”

Gibbs grins. “He’s my silly kitten,” he tells her.

“Not a kitten,” Tony grumbles, settling his head more comfortably in Gibbs’ lap and pulling himself closer, curling his body around Gibbs’ muscular legs.

Gibbs laughs out loud at the sound of his voice. “Are you awake, gorgeous?”

“No,” Tony pouts, eyes closed, mouth turned into a moue of discontent. “Sleepy.”

“Sleep then,” Gibbs tells him.

“Don’t leave,” he mumbles.

“Not going anywhere, gorgeous.”

Tony sighs and relaxes back into a sound sleep. Gibbs silently runs his fingers over Tony’s face again and this time, he smiles to see the eyebrows quirking, small sighs and the little smile tugging at the sleeping man’s lips.

“I don’t think he’s even going to remember this,” Abby says, unable to help herself, joining Gibbs in petting the sleeping man.

“Doubt it,” Gibbs says. “I’m just glad he’s coming back to us.”

Abby sighs. “I guess he just needed a break from everything.”

Gibbs tightens his arm around Abby. “He’s OK, Abby.”

Abby nods, even though her eyes tear up. “I watched the security footage from yesterday and the night before, Bossman,” she says softly, “I saw what he went through when he figured out what was going on with Monica Brinkmann.”

Gibbs rubs her shoulder soothingly. “Let’s not talk about it here. No telling what’s seeping into his subconscious,” he warns her.

Abby nods, swallowing. “I have his phone.”

“Could you fix it?”

“No. I got him a replacement and transferred everything over.” She pulls a phone out of her purse and puts it on the nightstand.

“Thanks, Abs. You know Spanky’s attached to his phone.”

Abby smiles. “You want to go take a shower or something? I’ll stay with him if you like.”

“That would be great. I’ll be ten minutes.”

Gibbs carefully places his pillow under Tony’s head to replace his lap and with one final pet, and grabs a quick shower. When he comes out, dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt (one of Tony’s OSU t-shirts), he finds Abby lying in the bed, carefully petting Tony’s hair and whispering comfortingly to him. She looks up at him in relief.

“He’s starting to get unhappy, Bossman,” she says, worry in her eyes. “I think you need to get back in bed with him.”

Gibbs nods, and gently coaxes the obviously disgruntled sleeping Tony off of his pillow, settles himself back and pulls Tony’s head back into his lap. The younger man sighs, and the frown lines slowly smooth away when Gibbs starts caressing him again.

Abby kneels next to Tony, frowning.

“What’s wrong, Abs?”

“I’m just wondering how on earth he carried everything he carried by himself, before you guys got together.”

“I try not to think about it.”

Abby smiles. “He doesn’t have to do that anymore though.”

“Nope.”

“Did I ever tell you how glad I am you finally got together?”

“Me too, Abs.”

“Well, I’m gonna go brew you coffee and bring it up before I go. Do you need anything else?”

“Coffee’ll be great.”

“You know we’ll probably be over later to eat with you.”

“Figured.”

She leans down and kisses Tony’s cheek. “Feel better, mister,” she tells him.

Gibbs spends the rest of the day in bed, reading, Tony sprawled in his lap. His team visits periodically, each time bringing him snacks and coffee. McGee brings him cold case files, documents for him to review and even a new crossword puzzle book.

That evening, Ducky talks Gibbs into coming downstairs to eat with the team. They have brought Chinese food with them. They stand and watch Tony sleeping peacefully for a while before Ducky gently coaxes Gibbs away. They leave the door wide open so they will be able to hear him should Tony call out to them.

Gibbs sits at the kitchen table, quietly eating and watching as McGee, Bishop, Abby and Ducky converse quietly. He feels nothing but gratitude towards them – his surrogate family. They have been there for each other, and will continue to be there, and he is thankful for that, and thankful for them.

He smiles as they tease each other good-naturedly and sighs, his thoughts wandering back to the man sleeping in his bed upstairs. He misses Tony desperately. Tony is the one who is social, who insists on having people over and hanging out. Tony is the one who is the life of the party. He is happy to sit back and just observe. And right now he misses observing Tony as he interacts with this, their family.

“I hope you saved some for me,” Tony’s disgruntled voice makes them all jump. “Cause I’m starving.”

They all turn to look as Tony stands in the doorway of the kitchen blinking sleepily at them, clad only in boxers. There is a long moment of silence as they all gape at him. He looks to be perfectly normal, looking more like someone who has just woken up from a short nap than someone who has been in a near catatonic stage for over twenty-four hours.

His eyes widen at their expressions. “What?” he begins running his hands through his hair and looking down at himself. “You’re right. I should get a shirt.”

“No, no,” Gibbs jumps up so fast his chair falls over backwards with a crash that makes everyone jump. “Sit. I’ll get you a shirt.” He pulls Tony over, rights his chair, and sits him down, kissing his temple and running his fingers through his hair before he rushes into the laundry room to find him a clean shirt.

“Yeah, Tony. We got you your favorite shrimp lo mein,” Abby unfreezes and rummages through the bags on the counter and finds the correct container. “Sit, and eat.” She puts the container in front of him and finds a fork from the pile of plastic utensils on the table.

Tony grins at her. “Thank you Abs. I am so hungry I could eat a horse,” he quips, and as if on cue, his stomach rumbles. “Remind me not to skip lunch, huh?”

“Uh, sure thing Tony,” McGee mutters.

Gibbs returns with a clean t-shirt and Tony slips it on, thanking Gibbs. He proceeds to dig into the container and eats with a hearty appetite, seemingly unaware of the glances that the others are giving each other.

“Are you quite feeling yourself again, Anthony?” Ducky asks carefully.

Tony sighs and sticks his fork into the noodles. “What’s going on?” he asks. “You are all acting so weird.”

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Ducky asks.

“You’re all staring at me and making me nervous,” Tony complains, trying to hide the tremor in his voice. Gibbs takes his hand and rubs it soothingly.

“Can you just think for a moment and answer Ducky?” Gibbs asks him.

Tony blows out a sigh, closing his eyes, and Gibbs puts his other hand on the back of Tony’s neck and begins rubbing him gently.

“Oh,” Tony gasps. “Monica…” he keeps his eyes closed. “Not a dream then? We found her…and it’s not a dream?”

“No, Anthony,” Ducky says gently. “You found her.”

“In the f-freezer,” Tony starts stammering.

“Shhh,” Gibbs pulls him close, slipping both arms around him.

Tony sits in the circle of Gibbs’ arms, hiding his face in Gibbs’ chest until he regains control of his breathing. “OK. Then my father called.”

“Right,” Gibbs says, keeping his voice low and soothing.

“Then the letter.”

“Yep.”

“Huh,” Tony blows out another breath, trying to slow his pulse and stop his fingers from trembling. Gibbs rocks him gently, making gentle hushing sounds. After a few moments, Tony takes a shuddering breath and pulls away. “I’m OK,” he tells Gibbs.

“It’s been a rough few days,” Gibbs says, reluctant to let him go.

“Yeah, for all of us,” Tony says, lifting his eyes and looking around the room. He gives them all a wan smile. “You guys didn’t need to come and check on me. I’m OK. Just needed a nap.”

Abby, McGee and Bishop exchange worried glances.

“What?” Tony frowned.

“You’ve been out of it for a while,” Gibbs finally says, keeping Tony’s hands in his.

“What do you mean?”

“After the letter, you remember me taking you home?”

Tony frowns and slowly shakes his head. “I guess not. No, not really.”

“That was yesterday, love. You were really out of it.”

“Yesterday?”

Gibbs nods.

“I l-lost a d-day?” Tony’s eyes are wide and fearful.

“You’re back now,” Gibbs says reassuringly. “You just needed a break.”

Tony tamps down the hysterical laughter that threatens to bubble out. Break. Break from reality, apparently. For over twenty-four hours. He has so many questions but he decides to wait until he can talk to Gibbs without an audience. He rubs his eyes tiredly.

Finally he sits up and turns back to the table. “Well, I’m still hungry,” he says and gives his friends a small grin. “So I’m going to go back to eating.”

Immediately, he is offered egg rolls, soup, and other dishes. He laughs, takes an egg roll and goes back to his lo mein.

Ducky subtly shakes his head when Bishop opens the fridge and pulls out a beer, cocking her head questioningly at Tony. Instead, she puts it back and rummages around, pulling out a bottle of Gatorade, which Ducky nods and smiles approvingly at. She places the Gatorade next to Tony’s food on the table.

Tony gives her a shrewd look, having caught the silent exchange but he says nothing, accepting the Gatorade and drinking it without comment. When everyone has eaten, they clear the kitchen and stay a few minutes, Abby curling up against Tony’s body on the couch before Ducky takes Tony upstairs and gets a reading on his vitals and checks him over, disregarding his protests.

After the team leaves, Tony sits on the couch, leaning on the arm, his feet in Gibbs’ lap.

“So…” he says. “Can I ask you some questions about what happened while I…lost time?”

“Let’s get to bed and talk there,” Gibbs says, standing and holding a hand out to him. “I’ll feel better if I can hold you for a while.”

Unable to resist the mute plea in Gibbs’ blue eyes, Tony sighs, takes the proffered hand, and stands. Gibbs laces their fingers together and holds his hand all the way up the stairs, which tells Tony that Gibbs had been really worried about him.

They get ready for bed and Tony lets Gibbs help him into bed and pull the blankets around him before he slides in. Tony turns on his side and leans on one elbow, green eyes worried as Gibbs fusses with trying to get Tony more comfortable – fluffing the pillows and rearranging the blankets, while he caresses the younger man wherever he can reach him, without actually looking him in the eye.

“You’re scaring me,” Tony finally tells him. “What did I do to make you act like this?”

Gibbs finally meets his eyes, and the younger man is surprised to see the open fear in his blue eyes.

“What did I do, Jethro?” Tony asks, his eyes widening with worry. “I didn’t hurt anyone, did I?”

“No, no, no…gorgeous. No, you didn’t hurt anyone,” Gibbs pulls him into his arms, and his hands continue their restless touching of him, trying to reassure himself that the younger man was back and talking and responsive again. “You just…went away.”

“Went away how?”

“Shit, Tony. You were just not responding.”

“Was I awake?”

“For a bit you were. And then when I got you into bed, you just kind of passed out. Sleeping, I guess, but we couldn’t wake you or get any response out of you.”

“Oh.”

“God, you really scared me,” Gibbs tightens his hold around the younger man. “Don’t you ever do that to me again, you hear me?”

“Sorry, Jet,” Tony says in a small voice.

“No…I’m just glad you’re talking to me again, and looking at me. Last night, I couldn’t get anything out of you. Like you were sedated or something. And Ducky said you just needed time. So we gave you time.”

“Oh,” Tony says again.

“It was better this morning.”

“Yeah?”

“You purred like my silly kitten when I rubbed your head.”

Tony grins and bops Gibbs on the arm, almost succeeding to sound like his normal self. “I’m not a silly kitten,” he complains.

“Fuck, you don’t know how happy I am to just hear you say that,” Gibbs says, dropping soft kisses all over Tony’s face. “Don’t do that to me again, okay?”

“OK,” Tony says agreeably, although he has no idea how he’s going to do this. They stay in bed, Gibbs touching Tony all over, reassuring himself that Tony is there, and responding to him.

Finally, Tony grabs his hands and looks into his eyes. “You OK?” he asks quietly. “This case can’t have been easy for you, either. Opened old wounds?”

Gibbs looks away, nodding. Tony is unsure whether he is nodding that he is OK, or if the case opened old wounds.

“Jethro,” he says gently. “I know how you get when kids are involved.”

Gibbs blows out a long breath. “Was more worried about you,” he tells him.

“I’m proud of you, for not going off without us.”

Gibbs looks up and nods reluctantly. “It was a little different this time. You were there. You made it clear what was unacceptable. And then, this case was just so hard on you.”

“It was hard on all of us.”

“Don’t minimize this,” Gibbs tells him gently. “Of all people, you know what Monica’s been through these past few months, since her mother was deployed.”

Tony shrugs. “You know what it’s like to lose a child,” he whispers.

“Brinkmann did this to his own daughter,” Gibbs growls. “He didn’t lose his child.”

“I know.”

“Best thing I can say about him is that he’s dead.”

Tony sighs. “I still wish you’d have let me shoot him.”

“Now who’s going lone wolf on us?”

Tony smiles at him and they lie silently. After a while, Tony yawns. “Is it crazy that after all that sleep, I’m still sleepy?”

Gibbs chuckles. “I don’t know, but I’m tired too. We could just go to sleep.”

They kiss for a while, and Tony reaches down to stroke Gibbs hardening cock through his boxers. “Or we could have a little fun before bed?” he says huskily.

“Are you sure?” Gibbs is concerned.

Tony kisses him, long, slow and deep, tongue sweeping in, exploring his mouth thoroughly, bringing one of Gibbs’ hands to his own hard cock.

“Guess you’re sure,” Gibbs smiles and they stop talking for a while, while Gibbs gets more reassurance that Tony is in fact present and responding beautifully to his touch. Their lovemaking is frantic and quick – both reaching orgasms quickly. Gibbs makes Tony stay in bed while he cleans himself up and brings a washcloth to carefully clean Tony off.

“You know I’m going to need to you to stop treating me like I’m going to break, right?” Tony tells him gently.

Gibbs sighs. “I know, gorgeous. But for tonight, let me take care of you.”

Tony nods ruefully. “OK, babe. But we have to get back to normal tomorrow, or it’ll just keep dragging on. And freak me out.”

“I hear you.”

“Good.”

“You want to take tomorrow off?”

“No. I want to go back to work. I have reports to write. And we have bad guys to catch.”

“Sure you’re ready?”

Tony snorts. “I’m fine, babe.”

“You’ll need Ducky to clear you for field work.”

“What? I’m not in any way injured or impaired!”

“I know. But you’ll still need Ducky to sign off before I’ll put you in the field.”

Tony shrugs and pouts. “I’m fine, babe.”

“You weren’t yesterday,” Gibbs says quietly. “And I’m going to let Ducky tell me what you’re ready to do.”

“Aw fuck, Jet,” Tony sighs and lies on his back. “I just need for things to get back to normal.”

“Normal for us includes child abuse cases,” Gibbs says somberly. “I need to know you’re OK, and you can handle it. Or we’ll have to figure something out.”

“Are you the one benching me?” Tony asks, outraged. “Seriously?”

Gibbs cups Tony’s face and leans over him, looking deep in his eyes. “You lost time, Tony. Your brain went into overload and shut down. What if that happens while we’re all in the field, hunting down some perp?”

“But I’m a fucking field agent,” Tony objects. “First you take me off undercover work, now you’re taking me out of the field?”

“Anthony,” Gibbs says softly, keeping his hand on Tony’s face. “Listen to me. I’m not taking anything away from you. The undercover work – well you had a million hits or whatever the hell that is on the video of you singing at our wedding. I think that blew your undercover career to kingdom come, right there. That had nothing to do with me, and everything to do with the SecNav.”

Tony’s expression darkens, refusing to look at Gibbs, and he blinks as his eyes grow hot with tears.

“Listen to me,” Gibbs says gently, “Look at me, Tony.”

Slowly Tony meets Gibbs’ gaze.

“I’m not taking you out of the field. I just think we need to deal with what happened, and figure out how we can stop it from happening again.”

“Are you talking about a shrink?”

“If Ducky thinks that’s what you need.”

Tony tries to scramble away out of Gibbs’ arms, but the older man is prepared and tightens his hold, hooking a leg around him.

“It’s not punishment, or judgment,” he continues softly. “It’s concern. For your well-being. You’ll be back in the field soon, I know it. But I want to make sure that you’re safe. And you’re OK.”

Tony struggles for a moment, before he gives up. He can feel Gibbs’ determination on this. He finally goes boneless and leans into Gibbs’ body. “But I’m fine,” he insists.

“I know. But you really scared me, Tony. I can’t go through that with you again. You stopped responding to me. It was like you stopped being there. You went away. I-I can’t see you like that again, love.”

Tony growls angrily.

“I need to know that you’ll be OK in the field.”

“Everything’s so out of control,” Tony whines.

“I’m sorry it feels that way,” Gibbs says, running his fingers through Tony’s hair, dropping soft kisses on his face. “But I need for you to be OK. Before we throw you back out in the field.”

“What if I’m not?” Tony finally asks, his voice small and scared.

“Then we’ll figure out what we need to do to help you be OK again,” Gibbs says, determination lacing his voice. “I’ll do whatever you need me to do to get you back to being OK. I’ll help you get control back. You’re not alone, Tony. You’ll never be alone again. I’m always here for you. Always on your six. I love you. So, so much.”

Tony’s eyes grow hot with tears at Gibbs’ words. “Love you, too,” he whispers.

Gibbs gathers him close and holds him tight, whispering again the words that he whispered to his husband the previous night, when he was insensate. This time, he makes sure that Tony can hear the promises, the pledges, the support and the love that he has for the man. That night, Tony falls asleep in Gibbs’ arms, worried about his future and his ability to be in the field, but never once doubting Gibbs’ love or that Gibbs will move heaven and earth to help him get back to doing fieldwork and on Gibbs’ six again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I also want to put a disclaimer here that I am in no way shape or form a medical professional, so Tony's entire reaction and Ducky's advise on what to do is completely made up. I figure it's probably a whole lot of mental exhaustion that made Tony's brain shut down and let him sleep until he's able to deal with things. Or just bunk that I dressed up to sound somewhat plausible. Either way, I hope you were able to just go with it with me.
> 
> Dammit, Jim, I am not a doctor! :D
> 
> I am, however, a professional at kissing boo-boos and hugging and kissing little kids' tears away. :)


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My thanks to [penumbria](http://archiveofourown.org/users/penumbria/pseuds/penumbria) for her awesome artwork.

Ducky refuses to clear him for field work until he talks to a shrink, regardless of what he says. Tony stomps back to his desk, angry and upset. He throws himself into his chair and works the rest of the day in complete silence, finishing up his reports and ignoring everyone, including Gibbs.

He is assigned to desk duty until further notice. When the team is called out, Tony does the background checks, puts out BOLOs, does the background research, and makes phone calls, unable to go out into the field. Because of this, he is the only one in the office when security calls to inform him of Petty Officer Francine Brinkmann’s arrival at the Navy Yard, finally arriving home on emergency leave.

He calls Gibbs and leaves him a message, and despite his own misgivings, escorts the pale and quiet Petty Officer Brinkmann to Autopsy where Ducky is awaiting them. She is there for the formal identification of her husband’s as well as her daughter’s remains. She stands, still as a statue, as Ducky pulls the drawer open, revealing Monica, who appears to be sleeping, despite the top of the Y incision that was visible on her chest above the edge of the sheet covering her.

Tony suddenly finds himself pulling her off the still little body on the table, as she screams her anguish, trying to grab hold of her daughter and shake her awake. She screams and screams Monica’s name, as if the child would sit up and answer her calls as tears cascade down her face, and all Tony can do is hold her in his arms. It is not the first distraught mother that he has held in his arms, falling apart at the sight of their murdered child, but it is the first time that he finds his own eyes welling with tears. A part of him envies Monica. Despite the horrors that she had endured, and despite the fact that she had ended up on a slab in a morgue before her seventh birthday, her mother was here, loving her so much that she was screaming for her to come back, screaming the awful things she wanted to do to her dead husband on behalf of her daughter. Tony can’t help thinking that if he had ended up on a slab as a child, no one would have cried for him. Even if Monica’s last few months of life had been unspeakably horrible, she had had a lifetime of love before that, something that had been denied him.

It wasn’t fair, he thought. He should have been the one to die young. Not Monica. Monica had a mother who loved her and would never recover from this loss. Perhaps Mulroney should have let his father beat him to death, to balance it out if it would somehow allow Monica to live all these years later.

Eventually Petty Officer Brinkmann finds herself sobbing into his shirt, unable to believe that the man she’d married and trusted her daughter with had done this to her.

“He was her father,” she sobbed. “He changed her diapers. Stayed up with her when she was teething and when she was sick. She worshiped him. How could he do this to her?”

Tony holds her and makes soothing noises, but he has no words to comfort her. His own experiences tells him that Brinkmann can both be a loving father and a sexual predator. But he knows this is not what Francine Brinkmann needs to hear right now. She sure as hell wouldn’t want to know that he thought her daughter was lucky to have a mother who loved her as much as Francine did. He gives Ducky and Palmer a helpless look.

Slowly, the distraught woman calms down.

“Why didn’t I see it?” she asks softly. “ _Why_ didn’t I see it?”

“We believe your husband only began his abuse after you shipped out,” Ducky murmurs in his soothing brogue.

“If I had stayed, would Monica have been safe? Would I have seen it then?”

“My dear, we cannot speculate about what might have been,” Ducky says gently.

“What else do I have left? Other than what might have been? My daughter is dead.”

Tony rubs her back as soothingly as he can.

“You were part of the team that found her, Agent DiNozzo?” Brinkmann looks up at him, her whole face swollen from her tears.

“I was,” Tony says softly.

“How did you know he was hurting her?”

Tony gives Ducky a look, asking for help, and he tries to extricate himself from the Petty Officer’s grasp, but she holds on tight.

“Tell me how you knew,” she insists. “I need to know. I need to know what I missed. I need to know how I could have missed this. How I could have let this happen to my baby!”

“We spoke to her teachers,” Tony says huskily, refusing to meet the woman’s eyes. “Her kindergarten teacher’s description of her differed greatly from her first grade teacher’s description. She’d stopped being friends with anyone.”

“And that’s what jumped out at you?”

“Please, Petty Officer Brinkmann,” Ducky tries to distract her.

Tony nods and swallows with difficulty.

“There’s more,” Brinkmann glares at Tony. “You’re not telling me the whole story. I need to know.”

“It was in her eyes,” Tony finally admits. “In the recent pictures of her. It was in her eyes.”

“What was?”

“Her pain.” And with that, Tony finds himself holding an armful of pitifully crying mother again. Eventually a grief counselor manages to take her away from Autopsy and Tony disappears. When Gibbs and the rest of the MCRT returns, Tony is still missing. His cell phone is on his desk, and his weapon and credentials in the top drawer. Backpack still under the desk. Gibbs looks everywhere and eventually finds Tony sitting on the floor, back against the wall, head in his hands, in a dark, quiet corridor in the basement.

“Hey,” he greets his husband.

Tony grunts a response.

“Mind if I sit?”

Tony shrugs a wordless reply.

Sighing, Gibbs slides down the wall, knees cracking, next to the younger man and sits, putting his arm around him and kissing his temple.

“Heard you had a rough identification.”

Tony gives him another shrug.

“Wanna talk about it?”

Tony shakes his head.

“OK,” Gibbs says. They sit together in silence for a long time. Finally Tony sighs.

“OK,” he says huskily.

“OK what, love?”

“I’ll talk to Dr Kate’s Sister,” he says heavily.

“OK,” Gibbs says. “I’ll get the ball rolling.”

“Would you…come with me?”

“Where?”

“To speak to Dr Kate’s Sister. I don’t think I can do it alone.”

After a long pause, Gibbs answers. “I’ll go with you.”

Tony nods, eyes down.

Gibbs and Tony sit on the floor for a long time, Gibbs’ arm around Tony, Tony’s head on Gibbs’ shoulder.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next few weeks are difficult for Tony. He sees Rachel Cranston at least twice a week, and for the first few sessions, as requested, Gibbs sits in the sessions with him.

In the very first session, Tony sits and refuses to speak, even though Gibbs is there. Instead of pressuring Tony into speaking, Rachel asks Gibbs questions and makes him speak about how he felt leading up to the aftermath of the Monica Brinkmann case. Tony sits on the couch, maintaining space between himself and Gibbs, arms wrapped around himself and chewing on a thumbnail while Gibbs, the functional mute, haltingly begins to speak, going back to the beginning, to when their marriage became public knowledge.

“You were concerned by all the television appearances?” Rachel prompts him when he falls silent.

“Well, yeah,” Gibbs says, glaring at her. “DiNozzo’s very private. And has had a successful career as an undercover operative. All this airtime tanks the undercover ops, and exposes him to the world.”

“What about you? Weren’t you concerned about your loss of privacy?”

Gibbs shrugs. “People will lose interest in me within a day. It’s DiNozzo that they’re fascinated with.”

“You really think that?”

Gibbs raises an eyebrow at her. “I’m not wrong,” he says, a hint of amusement in his tone. “I’m aware of what my husband presents to the world, and what he hides. I’m the lucky guy who gets to see who he truly is. I get why the little hints of the real Tony that you get is…tantalizing. The whole picture is even better.”

Tony rolls his eyes.

“Don’t you roll your eyes at me,” Gibbs tells him.

“You want to put in your two cents, Tony?” Rachel turns to him.

Tony shrugs and turns away.

“OK. So you’re concerned about Tony’s state of mind for all the publicity that you guys were getting, and are still getting,” Rachel points to her iPad which shows an article on ZNN, with pictures of their date night, wedding, and a candid of them walking down the street in street clothes, holding hands. The press has not gotten tired of their new favorite couple, much to Tony’s despair.

Gibbs nods. “Plus he’s mad at me.”

Tony kicks his shin and glares at him.

“Yes you are. You’re mad at me,” Gibbs looks at him reproachfully.

“Why is Tony mad at you?”

“I agreed with the SecNav that maybe it was a good idea to put DiNozzo’s undercover career on hold indefinitely, given all the dangerous publicity that we’d been getting. So now in Tony’s head I carry some of that blame.”

Tony sighs and covers his eyes with his fingers.

“And how do you feel about this, Gibbs?”

“How do I _feel_ about this?” Gibbs gives her a dangerous glare.

“Yes, Gibbs. This is therapy. You can tell me how you feel about things.”

Tony snickers softly.

Gibbs puts a gentle hand on Tony’s knee. “I understand why he’s upset,” he says softly, “but it also makes me mad that he’s blaming me for something I didn’t do. I didn’t release anything to the press. I’m not going to apologize for something I didn’t do. But that’s not important right now. What’s important is Tony needs to regain control.”

Tony sighs and puts a hand on Gibbs’, squeezing it gently.

“And what about during the Brinkmann case?”

Gibbs sighs and scrubs his face. “That was hard on all of us. I don’t do well when children are involved.”

Rachel nods encouragingly.

“Tony had to give me an ultimatum.”

“An ultimatum?” Rachel is surprised. “What about?”

Gibbs’ face flushes. “Not to go it alone,” he says huskily.

“Would you have if he didn’t warn you off it?”

“Maybe.”

“What was the ultimatum?”

“It wasn’t specific,” Gibbs admits. “But I’m sure I wouldn’t have liked it.”

“OK. So you didn’t go it alone. Then what?”

“We couldn’t find her. Talked to everyone. Looked at everything. Tony broke the case wide open when he figured out what was happening to her.”

“Tony, you solved the case?”

Tony looks down and feels his eyes grow hot. He nods.

“How did you figure it out?”

Tony’s breaths get shorter and Rachel sees that his grip has tightened on Gibbs’ hand, still on his knee, but he says nothing.

“You saw it because of what happened to you when you were a child?” Rachel says in the gentlest of tones.

No response from Tony, and the anguish in Gibbs’ eyes is shocking. He nods silently on Tony’s behalf.

“And what happened at the house?”

Tony sits mute, still as a stone, only his short raspy breaths signaling that he is following the conversation.

“What happened, Tony?” Rachel asks him.

“That fucker took one look at him and he knew what Tony had been,” Gibbs sputters angrily. “He just _knew_. He _said_ things. Disgusting things. And DiNozzo took one look at him and knew him too.” The words that Gunnery Sergeant Brinkmann said then echoed through his head.

_“I don’t swing your way,” he’d said with that evil grin, “but if I did, I could definitely see what a sweet morsel your ass would have been as a child. Might have decided to swing your way after all.”_

Rachel looks somberly at both men, and she sees a tear fall from Tony’s downturned face onto his lap. “How did that…”

“Make me _feel_?” Gibbs bit out. “I wanted to castrate that man, feed him his lopped off dick, then snap his neck with my bare hands. That is how it made me feel. My only regret is that McGee and Bishop were too quick to kill him. I would have loved an hour with him alone.”

Rachel stifles a gasp. She nods and lets a few moments pass before asking her next question. “And what about when you found the freezer?”

Tony puts his free hand on his mouth, keeping his face down the whole time.

“It was hard,” Gibbs puts an arm on Tony’s shoulder and gently kneads the back of his neck, “on all of us.”

Rachel sees another tear fall onto Tony’s lap.

“You want to add anything, Tony?” she asks him gently.

Tony shook his head, cramming his hand into his mouth.

“And what about when Tony became unresponsive?”

Gibbs moves closer to Tony and wraps his arm around him protectively. He squeezes Tony tight and they both sit silently for a long while. Finally Gibbs speaks. “It was scary,” he admitted. “Maybe the scariest thing I’ve ever experienced.”

“Why?”

“Tony’s been my constant for a long time. Fifteen years. You’ve met him. He’s mouthy, brash. I depend on the yabba yabba. Keeps me sane,” he smiles at Tony. “But when he just…went away…like that. I don’t know. He didn’t even respond to my touch and he’s always done that. Even before we got together, I could get him to wake up or listen to me with a headslap. Even during the plague, that worked. And nothing worked that day. So…it really scared me.”

Tony leans into Gibbs’ body, leaning his head on Gibbs’ shoulder, without looking up.

“So you were worried then?”

“Wouldn’t you be?” Gibbs demanded angrily. “He’s been through a lot. And he did that by himself, came through all that shit in his childhood, more beautiful than anybody has a right to be. But he’s not alone anymore. I’m here now. So why is it worse now? I’m supposed to help, not make it worse!”

Tony throws himself into Gibbs’ arms and holds on tightly, whispering into his ear. Telling him that it wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t worse. It was better with him. Infinitely better. He whispers apologies and assurances.

Gibbs holds him just as tightly and whispers his own apologies and assurances. When Tony is calm again, he begins responding to Rachel’s questions with nods and shrugs, but they are at least real responses.

“Is there anything that worries you?” Rachel asks. “Other than wanting me to clear you for the field, I mean.”

Tony sighs and finally nods.

“You want to tell me?”

He shrugs.

“You want to tell Gibbs? Without me hearing this?” Rachel has learned that Tony will speak to Gibbs about things he won’t speak to anyone else about.

Tony shakes his head vehemently.

“Is it about Gibbs?”

Tony’s breath hitches and he shrugs. Gibbs stares at him in concern. “What is it?” he asks. “What’s worrying you, that you can’t talk to me about?”

Tony stuffs his hand in his mouth again. Gibbs asks him to talk to him. He even uses the word ‘please’. Repeatedly. Finally Tony gives in.

“Kelly,” Tony says, forcing his voice to work. “Monica. Kelly.”

“Are you worried about this thing with Monica being a trigger for Gibbs?” Rachel asks.

Tony nods, eyes down again.

Gibbs throws up his hands. “This is about you, Tony. Not me.”

“Hurt you, too,” Tony mumbles. “Not just me.”

“For the love of…”

“You won’t talk to me,” Tony says.

“Tony!” Gibbs says angrily. “I won’t be ambushed.”

The younger man starts chewing on his thumbnail. Rachel notices that all of Tony’s fingernails have been bitten to the quick.

“Kelly has nothing to do with this,” Gibbs insists.

“She does,” Tony says quietly.

“Why do you say that Kelly has nothing to do with this?” Rachel asks. “I thought you said you don’t do well when the cases involve children.”

Gibbs growls. “Doesn’t mean Kelly is part of every case involving children!”

“No? Are you sure about that?” Rachel’s eyes are soft and understanding.

For a long moment, Gibbs glares his death glare at her, without effect. Finally, gritting his teeth, he nods. “OK. Maybe it does. But not this one. Her own father did this to her, so it’s not the same. It’s not affecting me quite the same way. I promise you that.”

“She was killed while her parent was deployed, though,” Rachel pushes.

“I know. And I can understand some of what Francine Brinkmann is going through. But at least I didn’t leave my child with the person who would ultimately hurt her and kill her. At least I was spared that level of guilt.”

Rachel nods.

“I hope they have her on suicide watch,” Gibbs says, “because I wouldn’t want to live if I were her. I didn’t want to live after Shannon and Kelly died and I wasn’t there to protect them. But if I had left them with some psychopath pervert, then I wouldn’t have stopped myself from shooting myself in the head all of the times that I thought about it.”

Silence.

“Can we stop talking about this now?” Gibbs asks. “I’m fine. We’re here for Tony. Not for me.”

His husband slips his hand into his, interlacing their fingers, eyes questioning.

Gibbs looks him in the eye. “I promise. I’m OK.”

Finally Tony nods.

Rachel can see that Tony looks exhausted.

“Are you sleeping at night?” she asks him.

He shrugs.

“Not well?” she prods. “Are the nightmares back?”

Tony nods.

“It might help to talk about them.”

He shakes his head, his lips pursed together in a straight line.

“You could maybe tell Gibbs? Without me, I mean.”

Tony shakes his head again.

“Have you ever spoken to anyone about what goes on in these nightmares?”

Another head shake.

“It might help.”

“It won’t help,” Tony says hoarsely.

“It’s a look into your subconscious.”

“Won’t. Help.” Tony insists.

Rachel looks at him thoughtfully. “If you talked about it, would it make it real?”

Tony’s lips are set in an angry pout.

“Talking about it doesn’t make it real, Tony. It helps you get it off your chest. Maybe if you expressed these thoughts out loud, it won’t have to be expressed in your nightmares.”

“No. I want to go home,” Tony stands and begins pacing agitatedly, glad that they scheduled the sessions at the end of the day so he can just go home after and not have to talk to anyone.

Gibbs looks at Rachel who nods, signaling they can leave. “Same time tomorrow?” Rachel asks them gently.

Gibbs nods tightly. After a long pause, Tony frowns and nods once before he wrenches the door open and flees, Gibbs hot on his heels.

Tony retreats to their apartment alone and plays sad songs on the piano. Gibbs gives him time to himself before he goes home. He walks in to Tony singing softly as he plays.

_They talk about time_   
_They talk about tides_   
_The pull of the moon and the coffee deep night black_   
_And I listen to them_   
_And I listen to you_   
_And for someone there is someone never coming back_

He stands and waits until Tony finishes, before he clears his throat. Tony startles and turns to look at him.

“You OK?” Gibbs asks gently. “That was rough.”

“Just moping a little,” Tony grins at him, but it is a little wobbly. “You?”

“I’m OK.”

Tony stares at him for a long moment before he nods, accepting Gibbs’ answer.

“Sad song.”

Tony hums his agreement. “Kind of true though. For someone there is someone never coming back.” Gibbs frowns to see how sad Tony’s eyes are, and knows that he must be thinking about Francine and Monica Brinkmann.

“Not what you should focus on.”

“I know.” Tony turns back to the keys, fingering them gently.

“I like my song better,” Gibbs offers him a small smile.

Tony smiles back. “I like your song better, too.”

“Will you play it for me?”

He nods.

Gibbs sits on the piano bench, next to the younger man, while he plays and sings the song that he’d sung at their wedding. _The Luckiest_ , by Ben Folds. When the song is done, Gibbs wraps an arm around his husband.

“You’re not alone,” he whispers softly. “I’m here for you. Always.”

“I know.”

“I’m the luckiest.”

“Me too.”

They sit on the piano bench, arms wrapped around each other late into the night.

As the weeks progress, the sessions get better. Tony starts speaking, although he adamantly refuses to talk about his nightmares. Slowly, he starts speaking about the Brinkmann case. Gibbs comes to therapy whenever Tony needs him to come. At other times, he goes by himself. There are times that even McGee and Abby are asked to attend. They work to identify his triggers and work on coping strategies. They talk about survivor’s guilt and more coping strategies.

Rachel asks if he wants to confront Garrett Mulroney again, but Tony insists that he has already done that. He might have more things to say to the man, but doesn’t see the point of talking to the man again. Gibbs agrees, adding that it would only make Garrett happy to be acknowledged again, and rewarded to be able to see him again in person.

So Tony writes a very long letter to Garrett Mulroney, and in this letter, he puts down on paper everything that he thinks and feels. Even in his tiny cop-scrawl, he writes thirty-four pages, front and back single-spaced, double line of handwriting per ruled line of a legal notepad. And when he is done, he tears the papers off, and seals them in an envelope.

Gibbs builds a bonfire one night. Tony throws all of the clothes that they purchased, courtesy of NCIS, for all of their interviews on the fire, watching as everything burns. He stifles a hysterical giggle at the thought that he is thankful that he favors natural fibers, otherwise they might be releasing toxins into the air. And then with trembling fingers, he throws the envelope containing the letter to Mulroney into the fire. He and Gibbs watch as it all goes up in flames, holding hands, fingers interlaced, until nothing is left.

Rachel clears Tony for field work and they celebrate with a team dinner at their house. But even though Tony has been cleared for field work, he continues to see Rachel on an as needed basis.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next time Senior calls, Tony arranges to meet with him but not at the apartment or the house. He and Gibbs walk into the Adams House Hotel restaurant together, and they find Senior sitting at the bar waiting for them.

At their table, they sit in uncomfortable silence until Senior tries to make small talk.

“Cut the crap, Dad,” Tony tells him, softly but authoritatively.

Senior looks at the two men at his table. “Son, look, I just want to apologize. I was a lousy father and I know it. You deserved better.”

Tony nods in agreement. “Nobody deserved what I got,” he says softly.

“I never meant to hurt you. I was so drunk all the time.”

“Not an acceptable excuse,” Tony tells him shortly. “You broke my bones. You used me as a punching bag.”

“You should have been better behaved,” Senior snapped at him.

“I never made a noise. I was always neat and quiet. I got all As in school. How else should I have been better behaved?”

“You looked like your mother.”

“And that’s why you beat me up? Why? Were you beating Mom up too?”

“Did you come to dredge up the past?”

Tony glares at him. “I came to tell you how I feel.”

“Why? Are you in therapy or something?” Senior sneers.

Tony rolls his eyes. “You were a terrible father,” he says as emotionlessly as he can. “You hurt me on purpose, and you took money from the man who was raping me. I was eight years old, Dad. You sold me to a pedophile. And from the looks of it, you don’t regret one bit of it.”

“You survived,” Senior tells him, looking him up and down. “You did OK for yourself.”

“I did. No thanks to you.”

They glare at each other for a moment.

“So why did you agree to meet with me? Are you done with your temper tantrum? Snit over, little boy?”

Tony takes a deep breath and keeps calm, serious eyes on the man who was supposed to be his father. “Dad, you disowned me when I was twelve. Garrett paid for everything until I got my scholarship to OSU. We have evidence of it. So because of you, I owe Garrett for what I’ve been able to make of myself now.”

Senior pouts. “No need to get testy, son. You got away from Garrett when you were sent away.”

“He made you send me away because he was afraid you were going to beat me to death, Dad.”

Senior stares at him, the words finally seeping in.

“In the end, he paid for my safety. He both fucked me, and saved me. You, on the other hand, you washed your hands off me entirely.”

“That’s not true. We’ve been…mending fences these past few years.”

Tony nods slowly. “We have been. But I don’t want to do this anymore.”

“Are you breaking up with me, son?” Senior laughs, a short, ugly laugh.

“All this while I thought maybe you knew what was going on, what Garrett was doing to me. And I thought maybe you couldn’t prove it, didn’t care to prove it, didn’t care about me, period. But to know that you took money from him, to know that you prostituted your only child before he was ten years old, it’s too much for me to take. So yeah. I am breaking up with you,” Tony says, keeping his expression calm. He looks at his father for a long while. “I love you, Dad. But this is it for me. What you did to me was criminal. I don’t want you in my life now. You won’t ever hear from me again. Please don’t call or come over.” He pushes a document across the table. “A restraining order. Don’t come near me again. Ever.”

“B-but Junior.”

“I’m done with that, too,” Tony says. “I’ve legally changed my name. I’m Anthony DiNozzo-Gibbs now. Not your namesake or your son.”

“Son!”

“Not anymore,” Tony says sadly. “Bye, Dad.” He puts money on the table and looks at Gibbs who nods calmly.

“Ready to go?” Gibbs asks, his voice warm and comforting.

“Anthony?” Senior asks in a small voice.

Tony swallows with difficulty, but he stands and holds his hand out to Gibbs.

“Don’t come near Tony,” Gibbs tells the senior DiNozzo as he takes Tony’s hand and slowly stands. “I won’t hesitate to shoot you if you do, Mr. DiNozzo. Adhere to the restraining order. Count your lucky stars that your son is who he is. You’re getting off easy.”

He stares at Senior, his eyes menacing and cold, communicating all the hatred that he felt. Senior is the first to look away.

Quietly, Gibbs and Tony slip away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies. I overslept and am a little late posting this chapter.
> 
> Also, I will include these links at the end of the story (the way I usually do) but the two pieces of music here are:  
> * [Winthrop](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pHR_A73Upr8) by the Indigo Girls  
> * [The Luckiest](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f9bRmuP-kQY) by Ben Folds
> 
> The title of this story comes from a line in Winthrop.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be the final chapter, and I was going to post the epilogue tomorrow, but the chapter ended up being too long. So I'm dividing it into 2 chapters, and then the epilogue. So tomorrow I'll post the final chapter, and the day after that the epilogue! We're almost done :)
> 
>  
> 
> The lovely artwork is courtesy of [penumbria](http://archiveofourown.org/users/penumbria/pseuds/penumbria). Thank you! :)

Tony’s night terrors return, full force for a few weeks. Every night, Gibbs holds him while he weeps in silence. There are even nights when he ends up throwing up – something he hasn’t done since he and Gibbs got together. Unlike the previous times, even Gibbs’ presence doesn’t soothe him back to sleep after these nightmares. He waits until Gibbs is asleep, crawls out of bed and sits in the living room, watching movies on mute with closed captioning in a different language, just to make things challenging for himself. Some mornings, Gibbs finds him dozing fitfully on the couch, TV still on, but Tony refuses to talk to him about this. These shortened nights are taking their toll on him, though.

Late one Saturday morning, when Tony shuffles into the kitchen from dozing on the couch after a rough night plagued with nightmares, Gibbs sits him down and plies him with coffee. Gibbs sits and calmly drinks his own cup of coffee, waiting until Tony is on his second cup.

“What?” Tony growls at him, sipping the coffee, frowning at Gibbs. He knows that Gibbs has wanted to speak to him about the nightmares for a while. The only surprise is how long Gibbs waited to do it.

“You know what I’m going to say,” Gibbs says calmly.

Tony shrugs.

“You’re exhausted,” Gibbs says softly. “I want to help you.”

Tony shrugs again, sighing noisily. “I’m fine.”

“No, gorgeous. This isn’t right. You need to sleep.”

“Maybe I’ll just take the sleep aids.”

Gibbs takes his hand. “Do you think that will help?”

Tony sighs and rubs his face tiredly with his free hand. “Doubtful.”

“You’ve tried them before?”

Tony nods.

“Didn’t help?”

He shakes his head.

“What can I do?”

Tony shrugs and blows out a breath. “I don’t know.”

“Ducky and Rachel think you should talk about your dreams.”

“No,” the younger man says, lips turned down mutinously.

“I didn’t say I thought you should talk about them.”

“No?” Tony’s bleary green eyes meet Gibbs’ calm blue ones.

“Nope.”

“You think maybe we can just go to the gun range and shoot some stuff?”

“Would that help?”

“More than talking about it or sleep aids would.”

Gibbs grins and places a hand on Tony’s cheek, smiling when the younger man leans into it and closes his eyes with a quiet sigh.

“You want me to do something, though,” Tony says softly, eyes open into half slits as he gives him a knowing look, making Gibbs think of a jungle cat. That was Tony – always anticipating Gibbs’ thoughts.

Gibbs hums a reply.

“What is it?” Tony asks tiredly. “What do you want me to do?”

“I get that you don’t want to talk about the dreams,” Gibbs says. “You know I do.”

Tony nods. Gibbs is the last person to recommend talking to anyone about his nightmares. They both know that he has had his fair share of them over the years and while Tony can guess their contents, neither of them has actually talked about it.

“I can’t talk about it,” Tony repeats. “I can’t tell you what happens in them.”

“Yeah,” Gibbs nods in agreement. “Some things are too private.”

Tony nods.

“Maybe you can talk about why you can’t talk about it.”

“What do you mean?”

Gibbs sighs. “After Shannon and Kelly were killed, I dreamt about them every night. Different dreams. It w-was a bad time.”

Tony immediately takes Gibbs’ hands in his, rubbing them soothingly.

“Never told anyone what the dreams were. It’s just…not me.”

Tony’s lips quirk up in a smile of understanding.

“’S not your style either. I know that.”

“But…?”

“Franks – you know he was a vet? Vietnam. Tough motherfucker.”

“Uh huh.”

“He said he had trouble sleeping when he first came home. Same as me. Same as you. Back then, he had no help of course. No Rachel Cranston. PTSD wasn’t acknowledged as a real thing. He was expected to pick his life back up, suck it up, as if nothing ever happened to him. After what he saw in Vietnam he said couldn’t turn to the church or a priest. He’d lost his faith. So, he had a bartender.”

Tony chuckled at that. “Of course he had a bartender.”

“Bartender was this old codger, World War II Vet. Saw action in Normandy. Point is, bartender said, don’t tell him about the dream. Bartender had his own nightmares and didn’t need Franks’ to add to his collection. But he said to tell him why he thought he couldn’t talk about them.”

Tony looks puzzled. “Why he, _Franks,_ couldn’t talk about it?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh.”

“Franks told me, he’d be my bartender, if I wanted. Hell, the man certainly got me drunk enough times,” Gibbs smiles faintly at the memory.

“Did you tell him why you couldn’t talk about your dreams?”

Gibbs nods. “I told Franks the reasons why I didn’t want to talk about the dreams. I’ll tell you, too. One was that I never wanted to wake up. That I wished I’d died with them. And when I woke up, and they were still gone and I wasn’t with them at the end, I wasn’t there for them, and I was still alive, despite my own best efforts, well… it was a struggle.”

“To stay alive?”

“To not eat my gun. Yeah.”

Tony puts his arms around his husband and whispers soft words of love.

“I’m OK now,” Gibbs says softly. “It helped. It wasn’t a magic pill or anything, and it didn’t mean I never had those nightmares again, but it did help a little. To have someone know how disappointing it was to keep waking up. Alive. And alone. Maybe it’ll help you to tell someone. It doesn’t have to be me, we can find you a bartender if you want, or you can tell Rachel. But it might help for you to explain to someone why you can’t talk about it.”

Tony’s eyes slowly fill with tears and Gibbs ruffles his hair gently.

“Think about it?” Gibbs’ tone is impossibly gentle.

Tony nods.

Gibbs stands, kisses Tony on the corner of his mouth, pets his head gently and pours himself another cup of coffee. “Gonna work on the boat,” he says. “Want to go out for lunch in a bit?”

Tony nods.

“Then maybe the gun range?”

Tony grins at him at that and nods.

Gibbs drops soft kisses in Tony’s hair. “It’ll be OK, love,” he says softly. “You’re not alone anymore.”

Tony nods again, eyes brimming. Gibbs gently brushes away the tears, kisses his cheek, and heads down the basement steps, knowing that Tony will need a minute to pull himself together.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A couple of nights later, Gibbs is working on his boat and Tony is seated on the third step, sipping a beer, quietly watching Gibbs work. He’d been chattering away about the movie that he and McGee had gone to see, making Gibbs chuckle with his comments, but he’d gone silent for the last few minutes.

Gibbs looks at him inquiringly.

“You OK?”

Tony nods, smiling uncertainly. His restless fingers begin peeling at the label of the beer bottle.

“Drink?” Gibbs holds up the bourbon bottle.

Tony shakes his head. “I think I want to be sober for this. Even if that messes up the bartender imagery of this whole thing.”

Gibbs nods and moves to sit on a sawhorse.

“No – I think it’s better for me if you just keep working,” Tony says hesitantly. “Keep it normal?”

Gibbs nods and picks up his sanding block, moving back to the boat. Tony is quiet for a long time while Gibbs works on the boat.

“I want to tell you,” Tony finally begins, his voice soft, “why I can’t talk about these dreams.”

Gibbs pauses almost imperceptibly before continuing on his calm, soothing movements, eyes flicking over to his husband every so often.

“OK,” he says softly.

Tony clears his throat and runs his fingers through his hair, trying to stop the cold sweat and calm his heart rate. “It’s not for the reasons that Rachel’s talked about,” he says, speaking in fits and starts. “It’s not that telling someone would make it real. It’s real. It’s all already real, and it’s all already happened. The worst things in the world have already happened to me.”

Gibbs nods, moving the sanding block with the grain.

“It’s that it _is_ real. It happened. And if I told anyone, then they would have it in their heads too. Nobody needs that in their head. I don’t need it in my head, but I didn’t have a choice. So I don’t need to tell anyone else these things, and that will be my way of keeping you all safe.”

Gibbs stops sanding and looks at Tony who is lost in thought, the fingers of one hand peeling the label off the beer bottle in long strips.

“For a long time, they kept sending me to see shrinks when I was in boarding school, you know?” he continues. Gibbs wonders if he even realizes that he’s still speaking, his eyes have a faraway look. “I’d lived with everything by myself, always so secluded. Just by myself. And our cook. But she didn’t live in so she didn’t ever hear me at nights, you know? My dad tried but couldn’t beat the nightmares away. So nobody knew. Or nobody who gave a shit about me knew. I guess after my mom died, nobody was left who did give a shit about me. But then in the dorms, with other little boys there, I couldn’t hide it. Tried not to sleep for a while but that didn’t work out so well for me. Then the shrinks,” he shook his head. “They tried to help but they never got me.”

“You ever tell them what had happened to you before you were sent away?”

Tony laughed bitterly. “Hell, no. I was free by then, babe. No way I was going to try to change that by telling anyone anything and chance them sending me back,” he shuddered. “No, I just sat there and looked at them. Looked at stupid ink blots, talked about puppies and kittens and rainbow colored hearts, and tuned out all their chatter. Eventually the dreams lessened and I stopped getting sent to the shrink.”

Gibbs tries to keep his expression neutral, but he is glad that Tony is so lost in the past. If Tony sees any sympathy or god forbid, pity, in him, he would shut right up and stop talking completely. Tony was still Tony and pity would kill him.

“Is that the only reason why you can’t talk about your dreams?”

Tony shrugs and sighs. “It’s the main reason.”

“You want to tell me about the other reasons?”

Tony looks at him, making a face. “I guess I might as well.”

“Only if you want to, Tony. No one is forcing you to do anything.”

The younger man nods. “I know,” he breathes. Then he looks away. “I don’t talk about my dreams because sometimes, when I wake up screaming, I just don’t want to stop screaming. Ever. What Garrett did…” he shudders. “Even awake, it makes me feel like screaming if I think too hard about things. I can’t guarantee I won’t start screaming if I had to tell anyone what happens in my dreams. And I won’t put anyone through that.”

Gibbs must have made a noise of distress despite his best efforts, because Tony’s eyes flick back to him, and he immediately looks concerned.

“I’m sorry, babe. This isn’t fair to you,” he says, looking worried.

Gibbs walks over to him, sits next to him on the step and pulls his head onto his shoulder. “You’re not supposed to try to comfort _me_ , dumbass,” he says gruffly. “ _I’m_ supposed to comfort _you_.”

Tony chuckles tiredly, leaning into Gibbs’ embrace. “You do,” he says softly. “You always have.”

Gibbs pets Tony’s head, running his fingers through his hair and rubbing his scalp, smiling as Tony begins his leonine purring.

“Silly kitten,” he whispers, continuing to rub Tony’s scalp.

“Not a kitten,” Tony purrs back.

Gibbs thinks of all the years that Tony has turned up at his house and sat on this very step, watching him work on a boat or something else, sometimes turning up in the middle of the night and sitting quietly. Sometimes talking manically about everything and nothing. Sometimes drinking himself to a stupor and accidentally revealing tiny painful things about his past. Tony has always come to Gibbs when he needs help, and Gibbs’ presence alone has kept him steady and anchored all these years. The older man is glad now that he is there to help Tony through everything, in his rightful place next to him, as Tony has always had his six for all these years.

Tony abandons the bottle of beer and puts his arms around Gibbs, pressing soft kisses to Gibbs’ neck, slowly opening his mouth to lick and suck on the flesh below his ear, and slowly trailing wet kisses too Gibbs’ mouth.

“You sure you’re up for this?” Gibbs says, pulling Tony off of him and gazing deeply into his eyes.

Tony smiles at him. “See for yourself,” he takes one of Gibbs hands and places it on his hard cock.

“You’re unbelievable,” Gibbs rolls his eyes.

“You being all loving and concerned always makes me horny,” Tony says, nibbling Gibbs’ neck.

“Always?”

“ _Always_ ,” Tony confirms.

“Even before we got together?”

“Oh yeah,” Tony grins. “Back then, I hated getting shot in the shoulder or the arm, and then coming to stay here. You’d make me eat and put me to bed, take care of me, sometimes even show concern for my well-being. I’d be hiding my erection because god, when you looked at me like I mattered to you and you were concerned for me, it just made me so fucking hard for you. And when you left, if my hands didn’t work well, I couldn’t jack off properly to relieve myself.”

“You jacked off? In my guest room?”

Tony nods, grinning wickedly. “Oh yeah,” he says, drawing out the last word. “I’d imagine your hands on me and whoa baby…”

“How come I never knew this?”

“I’m telling you now.”

“Want to go upstairs? I think I want to help you with this,” Gibbs squeezed the hard dick in his hand, smiling when Tony closes his eyes and moans softly.

Tony pulls Gibbs down for a kiss, thrusting his tongue into Gibbs’ mouth, cradling his body between his legs while Gibbs slips his hand under the waistband of Tony’s sweatpants, palming his erect cock. Tony moans into Gibbs’ mouth when he feels the calloused palm on his shaft, fingers curling around him. He leans back against the stairs, lifting his hips when Gibbs pushes his pants down and off him, continuing to stroke the hard cock, smiling as Tony twitches and moans.

The younger man pulls the hoodie off Gibbs and arches into his body when Gibbs twists his cockhead as he keeps stroking him. He pulls Gibbs close, grinding into him, already panting from Gibbs’ ministrations. Tony whips out a tube of lube from somewhere and hands it to Gibbs who pulls his pants off while his husband yanks his t-shirt off and reaches for his engorged cock.

Gibbs moans as Tony fists him and strokes him gently, but he pulls Tony’s hand away.

“Let me take care of you tonight, love,” he whispers, leaning down and claiming Tony’s lips again. “I can’t do much else for you, but this I can do.”

Tony looks up at him, green eyes shining with love and nods. He leans back on his elbows as Gibbs kisses, licks, and nibbles his way down his neck, fingers palming one nipple, tweaking it into hard, pebbled nubs. He works his way down, losing himself in the noises Tony makes, the fingers clutching his hair and his body, and the sensation of Tony arching into his touch. When Gibbs follows his happy trail down to its source, Tony’s hard cock juts up, droplets beading its tip. He leans down and licks the moisture off, making Tony lift his hips and hiss in pleasure. The older man proceeds to tease his cockhead with little licks and nips, grinning as Tony starts objecting and pleading for more.

“Suck my dick, goddammit,” he finally snaps, fingers tight in Gibbs’ hair, lifting his hip off the stair, bringing his cock to Gibbs’ mouth.

“Thought you’d never ask,” Gibbs says smugly, and without warning he takes Tony’s engorged dick into his mouth, swallowing him down all the way to the base until his nose is in the curls.

“Oh _fuck_!” Tony’s hips involuntarily thrust upwards, deeper down Gibbs’ throat. “Shit, that’s so fucking good…” he moans as Gibbs begins bobbing up and down his shaft, tongue swirling around the slit, rubbing the underside of the ridge of his cockhead and swallowing him down again. One hand in Gibbs’ hair, the other clutching his shoulder as he thrusts into Gibbs’ mouth, moaning hard. When Gibbs pushes two lubed fingers into his hole he cries out, throwing his head back on the stairs, eyes closed, as the older man gently massages his prostate and sucks on his cockhead. Tony makes guttural noises deep in his chest as Gibbs holds his hip down, bobbing up and down on his dick in time to his fingers thrusting into Tony’s ass, loosening him up.

“Now,” Tony finally whimpers, legs curled around Gibbs’ head. “Fuck, babe. Now. Fuck me now. Need you now.”

Gibbs allows Tony’s hard cock to pop out of his mouth, smiling at the groan of protest.

“So…later?” he teases him gently, licking the moisture off his weeping cock.

“ _Now_ ,” Tony demands, raising his head and glaring at his husband. “Now now now.”

Gibbs grins as Tony pulls him up and kisses him fiercely, curling his legs around Gibbs’ back, trying to impale himself onto Gibbs’ cock.

“Let me…” Gibbs reaches for the lube.

“Hurry up or I’m going to start without you,” Tony says, trying to push himself down onto Gibbs’ rock hard dick.

“So demanding,” Gibbs says as he lubes himself up. “Your wish,” he drives himself into the younger man with a growl, “is my command, gorgeous.”

As Gibbs begins thrusting into the younger man, ignoring the hard step on his knees, he wonders idly if Tony’s back will survive having sex on the stairs like this, before he loses all capacity for thought, focusing on driving himself into the beautiful man under him, brushing his prostate with his cock and kissing him deeply.

His hand snakes in between their bodies and begins pulling on Tony’s dick. The younger man moans into his mouth before he throws his head back, thumping it hard on a stair step. He moans urgently, tendons standing out in his neck as Gibbs keeps thrusting hard into him, nailing his prostate with every stroke, and his hand jacks him off in time to the deep thrusts. Tony’s breath stutters as his balls draw up and his muscles bunch, hurtling him towards his climax, and he begs Gibbs not to stop, not to ever stop.

“I’m close,” Gibbs pants, doing his hardest to hold off his orgasm, the sight of Tony coming undone almost his own undoing.

Tony’s hand grips his hip, pulling him in hard, the other clawing at his back as he moans, the pressure building and building in his body. Gibbs tightens his grip on Tony’s cock, strokes him once, twice more and the younger man curls his body inwards, clutching blindly at Gibbs’ flesh as he finds his release, spurting thick creamy come onto their chests and bellies, Gibbs’ name torn from his throat in a hoarse cry. His muscles clench around Gibbs’ dick and the older man pumps into him, moaning Tony’s name as he comes.

Moments later, Gibbs pulls out and stretches out next to his boneless husband. “Your back’s gonna hate you for this,” he pants.

“Fuck my back,” Tony pants back. “How are your knees?”

Gibbs chuckles.

“What happened to taking this upstairs?” Tony asks.

“You happened,” Gibbs grinned.

They hear the front door slam and Abby’s voice calling out their names.

“Shit!” Tony snarls. “We have _got_ to start locking that door!”

Gibbs jumps off the stairs, grabs a rag and wipes himself off before throwing the rag at Tony. “One minute, Abby!” Gibbs yells up. “We’re coming up!”

They dress quickly and Gibbs pulls Tony in for a quick, hard kiss before they hurry upstairs, spilling out into the kitchen breathing hard.

“I wasn’t interrupting anything, was I?” Abby asks, eyes wide and innocent. Tony rolls his eyes.

“What is it, Abs?” Gibbs asks as Tony heads to the fridge and pulls out bottles of beer for them all.

“I called but didn’t get an answer from either of you,” she says softly. “Started worrying so I came over.”

Tony looks around and pats himself down. “My phone must be upstairs,” he says sheepishly.

Gibbs phone is on the charger in the kitchen.

“Anyway,” Abby jumps up on a counter and sips her beer. “They have announced an air date.”

“For what?”

“Deanna’s NCIS TV Special. I didn’t want you to be blindsided by not knowing it was coming.”

Tony takes several large mouthfuls of beer and sighs.

“It turned out OK, Tony. We’ve all previewed it,” Abby reminds him gently.

Tony grunts and throws himself onto the couch, putting his feet on the coffee table, grimacing as his back twinges and the back of his head throbs. Now that he is off his post-coital haze, his back is definitely protesting the sex on stairs, and his head is smarting from cracking it on the edge of a stair, probably multiple times.

Gibbs sees that Abby wants a moment with Tony so he kisses her cheek and tells them he’s going to work on the boat, and goes back down to the basement.

Abby slides an arm around Tony’s chest and hugs him. “I’m sorry, Tony,” she says softly. “I know this is hard for you.”

Tony shrugs. She holds him for a long time, hoping to help him feel better, neither of them saying anything. When she finally sits up, she wrinkles her nose.

“Why is it you always smell like cum when I come over?” she asks playfully.

Tony glares at her and grins when she starts chuckling. He shakes his head. Abby was Abby, and he wouldn’t change her for anything. But something in her deep, throaty laugh makes Tony stare at her.

“Abby?” he finally says.

“What?”

“Abby! No! You didn’t!” he says, shocked.

“Whaaaat?” Abby’s innocent look doesn’t fool him for one second.

“Abby. How much did you see?”

Abby blushes and giggles. “A little?” she says, eyebrows raised, eyes wide with feigned innocence.

“Abby. Oh my god. You watched us?”

“From ‘Suck my dick, goddammit’,” Abby squeaks happily, clapping her hands.

Tony covers his face, blushing profusely. “Abby!” he groans.

“God, Tony. It was the hottest thing ever,” she whispers. “I didn’t mean to. I came in, looked for you, and you didn’t hear me. And then. Well, then, I couldn’t look away. I just couldn’t. I couldn’t see either of your faces clearly when you came though, which was disappointing. But it was still crazy hot! And now that I have those images in my head and the sounds you guys were making – “ she fans herself as her face flushes, “I just want more of it. The. Hottest. Thing. Ever.”

“Abby,” Tony shakes his head, still covering his face.

“You guys ever think about a threesome?” she asks innocently.

Tony couldn’t help himself. He giggles and punches her arm, although he will never, ever admit to giggling. And she punches him back, giggling right back at him.

“It was the first time we had sex on my step, though,” Tony says softly.

Abby giggles even more and snuggles into his body as he turns the tv on and clicks around looking for something to watch.

That night, Tony sleeps through the night for the first time in weeks. For whatever reason, telling Gibbs why he couldn’t tell anyone what he dreamt about somehow made it easier to bear. And slowly the nightmares lessen until they are back to being occasional occurrences instead of nightly plagues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel the need to reiterate that I have no medical or psychological/psychiatric knowledge, and all I'm doing is making things up. I have no knowledge of dreams, interpreting dreams, or knowledge of the workings of a person's subconscious. Hell, I don't even have a bartender! So I hope Gibbs' story about how Mike Franks coped with PTSD post his deployment to Vietnam sounded plausible. Also, I am in no way advocating a) ignoring advise from a mental health specialist, or b) getting yourself a bartender. :)
> 
> I am so very sleepy now so I'm heading back to bed. Hopefully I didn't miss too many thing editing this chapter. I will reply to all remaining comments later today. Thank you! :)


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the final chapter. Tomorrow I will post the epilogue.
> 
> Again, my thanks to [penumbria](http://archiveofourown.org/users/penumbria/pseuds/penumbria) for the artwork!

It has been a long process – from the week where Deanna and her cameraman Jon had shadowed the team, to the background process where that footage is reviewed, edited, and put together to form a coherent whole. Rachel Cranston, working with Tony’s attorneys, make several attempts to block the special from being aired, but they are not able to stop it completely due to the legally binding agreement. However, they do aggressively enforce the team’s ability to veto any footage from airing, as per the agreement.

The MCRT, Ducky, Abby and Palmer all review each version made by the network. There are many iterations of this process where one or the other of the team vetoed different parts (or in the case of the first version, Tony nixed practically the entire thing and told them to start it over from scratch). Deanna and her producers had chafed at the limitations imposed upon them, but Tony’s attorneys fiercely battle the network’s and ensure that their agreement is adhered to, and the members of the MCRT, Abby, Ducky and Palmer are able to exercise their veto powers. Nothing will be aired that the team has not unanimously agreed can be aired.

The combination of a long background in law enforcement providing insider knowledge of the best attorneys in the business and Tony’s very deep pockets had made for a formidable armada of attorneys that not even the network was able to completely overcome. For once, Tony is willing to break Rule 13 and ensures that his legal team is involved in every step of their review and approval process. However, he still does not look forward to the TV special being aired. 

On the night that the TV special premieres, a small crowd gathers in MTAC. Most of them are eagerly awaiting the premier of the NCIS television special that Deanna Harvey made. Gibbs, Tony, McGee and Bishop are present, as are Ducky, Palmer and Abby. Balboa, his team and their families are there, along with Fornell, Vance, and the SecNav herself. Deanna, Jon and their producers are also in attendance. Abby has made enough popcorn for everyone and is in the process of distributing the fragrant cartons to all of the attendees.

Tony sits in the back row, practically in the dark, high up and farthest from the crowd, his hands suddenly cold. He watches the crowd, the muted conversations, the air of excitement. He wishes he can be as enthusiastic, but as it was, Vance had had to order him to come to the screening on the night the special is to be aired on national TV. Tony had objected, questioning the need, since they have all seen the show (minus the music and final tweaks – his attorneys have assured him that no new footage was added, only minor edits of existing approved footage). But Vance had been adamant, insisting and finally ordering Tony to be there, as the MCRT’s Senior Field Agent, and as Gibbs’ still very popular husband.

He watches as a figure comes up the steps towards him. It is Rachel Cranston.

“Hey,” she says, sitting down a few seats from him, in the same row.

“Hey,” he replies.

“You’re not joining us down there?”

Tony shrugs. “I was ordered to be here. I wasn’t ordered to enjoy this or be nice to people while I’m here.”

“You sound like Gibbs.”

Another shrug.

“You could have disobeyed the order. Vance wouldn’t have done anything you couldn’t handle.”

Tony purses his lips. His memories of being banished to the high seas as Agent Afloat hasn’t faded as much as he would have liked.

“Everyone would have understood if you weren’t here. But here you are.”

A quiet, blown out breath. Tony isn’t in the mood to be psychoanalyzed. Yes, he could have disobeyed the order, and the truth was that he knew Vance wouldn’t have done anything drastic to him. Their relationship has been good in recent years. In the past months, Vance and his family have been regulars at their team dinners. But even though he would prefer to have spent this night at home, the fact is that McGee, Abby, Bishop, and even Ducky and Palmer have been excited about this for a while now. They have been careful not to openly express this to him, knowing his issues with Deanna and all the publicity they’ve had, but he knows that to his team, it is an acknowledgement of their service to the greater good. And that is the real reason that he is here, he admits to himself. Not because Vance had given him orders, but because in the end, he is doing this for his team.

Rachel sighs. “You know, when Kate described you to me, I would never have guessed getting to know you in this way.”

Tony snorts.

“In many ways, my sister never knew the first thing about you.”

Tony turns to her, one eyebrow raised. Rachel has just stated what he has always thought, which amazed Tony, given Kate’s background as a profiler.

“But in other ways, she knew exactly who you were.”

“In what way did she know exactly who I am?” Tony asked.

“She told me you were the most courageous person she knew.”

“What? What about Gibbs?”

“She said you. Not Gibbs.”

He gaped at her. “Why would she say that?”

“She said that things happened to you at work that would have made her run like the dickens. But you kept showing up, regardless of the knocks or shots or knifings, or kidnappings. Or whatever it was that life threw at you. I’m sure I heard her wrong, but she even mentioned something about you being thrown out of a moving vehicle while in a body bag?” Rachel looks skeptical. “Anyway. You always show up. That’s what she said.”

“Gibbs does that, too.” Tony scoffs.

“But unlike Gibbs, she said that you made life fun for her while doing it.”

Tony sighs.

“She’s not wrong, Tony. You do always show up. With a vengeance. So don’t sit up here by yourself. Come join us. It’s mostly your family down there. Ignore the people you don’t want to talk to. You don’t have to be nice to anybody you don’t want to be nice to. We’ve talked about this, right?”

Tony nods. They have had sessions on Tony’s need to please and his need to keep things calm, sacrificing his own preferences.

“Remember how you said that you have family now? Well, they’re here and they want you with them,” Rachel says softly.

Tony’s lips turn down into a moue of discontent.

“Don’t come down because Vance told you to be here. Come down because your family wants to celebrate this. I don’t agree with how this came about, but you’ve exercised your rights to the fullest, and you and your team have personally reviewed and approved everything that will be aired. Ultimately, this is good for your team and for NCIS. Abby will finally get recognition for all the mad science that she does in her lab, and Ducky and Palmer for their skills in Autopsy. You’ve been known to complain about the fact that NCIS never gets credit for the work that you do. Well. That’s going to change now. Come down and celebrate that with us.”

Tony blows out a breath and runs his fingers through his hair. “Are you telling me I’m being selfish?”

Rachel gives him a small smile. “No. That’s not it at all. I know the reasons why this is so hard for you, Tony. We’ve talked about it. I don’t think Vance should have ordered you to be here. But now that you are here, be what Kate thought you were. Be what you are. Be courageous. Even though you hated the whole thing, come down, be with your family, and help celebrate them too.”

Tony frowns.

“Think about it,” Rachel looks at the crowd in MTAC, for once the families of the agents are allowed in MTAC. “Just so you know, I complained about Vance ordering you to be here tonight.”

Tony sighs. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I did. Vance told me SecNav and SecDef gave him those orders,” Rachel sighs. “This thing is just…” she breaks off, shaking her head. “Anyway. Vance said that he wouldn’t say anything if you slipped away early.”

Tony snarls at the thought of the SecNav and SecDef still pulling his strings.

“I don’t want this to be a setback for you.”

Tony shrugs. “I’ll be OK. I’m just angry.”

“OK.” Rachel gives him a gentle smile, proud of how far Tony had come. It had taken her a long time to be able to get him to express his feelings. “You have every right to be angry.”

“Good.”

“Still. Think about coming down to be with your family, instead of staying up here angrily all by yourself. You don’t have to stop being angry. It doesn’t mean you’re any less angry about this whole thing. But at least you’ll be surrounded by your family. You know they all love you.”

Tony is silent for a while before he sighs. “OK,” he says softly. “I’ll think about it.”

“Good,” Rachel’s smile widens. “Whatever you choose to do, you should know that you are courageous. More than anyone ever realized.”

Tony turns away, unable to meet Rachel’s gaze.

She leans over, grasps one of his hands and squeezes it. “Kate didn’t know a lot of things about you, Anthony DiNozzo-Gibbs, but she knew this much. And she wasn’t wrong.”

Tony nods awkwardly. Rachel squeezes his hand once more before she stands and goes back down to the milling crowd. He watches them, illuminated by the screen in the darkened room, walking around, eating popcorn, talking and laughing. Every so often he sees Gibbs look up at him and give him a small smile. Abby waves to him periodically, but uncharacteristically for her, does not come up to pull him down. He wonders if perhaps Gibbs had had a word with her, asking her to give him space. McGee has brought Delilah and he can see how proud Delilah is of her boyfriend, and how much they love each other, and that makes him happy. Palmer is carrying Victoria around, and everyone coos over the beautiful child while Breena sits with Ducky, keeping the elderly Scotsman company, talking and laughing quietly. Fornell is trying to calm Emily who is excited about being in a room where someone had to use a retinal scan to let her in, and also of seeing her father and his friends on TV.

Vance stands stiffly with the SecNav, and Tony sees the stress in the man’s stance. Every so often, he glances up to look at Tony, and he sees the apology in the man’s dark eyes. Vance is only carrying out his orders.

Tony sighs. Rachel is right. Down there, for the most part, is his family.

When the five minute warning is given, Gibbs comes up and settles into the seat next to him.

“Let’s go down with the others,” Tony tells him quietly.

“You sure?” Gibbs looks surprised.

“Rachel talked to me.”

“She didn’t guilt you into doing this, did she?” Gibbs looks annoyed. “I told everyone to just leave you alone.”

Tony smiles and kisses the corner of his mouth. “She didn’t guilt me into anything. Just asked me to think about some things, and told me something Kate told her.”

Gibbs scrutinizes his face and finally he nods. “OK. If that’s what you want, we can go down there.”

Tony stands and holds out his hand. Gibbs takes it and hand in hand they wander down and immediately they are welcomed into the crowd, surrounded by their surrogate family, and room is made for them to sit together in the middle of their rows, and popcorn is thrust into their hands. Tony is grateful for the fact that everyone has made an effort to ensure that the SecNav and the press keep their distance from him, running interference and distracting them as necessary. Vance does more than his fair share of this, for which Tony is grateful.

The show begins. For the next hour, they watch, enraptured by what Deanna and Jon have come up with. Even though the MCRT have seen all the versions of the show, watching this final version of it, complete with music and sound effects and all the polish that the network could bring on the giant screen in MTAC is quite an experience.

The show opens with a recap of how the MCRT caught the public’s attention, with Tony and Gibbs’ wedding. There is a montage of wedding photos, including those of the guests. There are no videos from the wedding, especially not any of Tony’s performances. Then a montage with selected sound bites of the different interviews that Tony and Gibbs went on. But it quickly moves into an introduction to NCIS and what the MCRT actually does, along with interviews with McGee and Bishop and what their roles are on the team, cutting to Vance talking about what McGee and Bishop bring to the team, and Gibbs on how he chose the team members. They introduce Ducky, Palmer, and Abby in a similar fashion.

Tony surprises himself by giggling and wonders if he is becoming hysterical.

“What?” Gibbs whispers, concerned.

“Nothing. You wouldn’t get it,” Tony whispers back.

“You OK?”

Tony nods, suppressing the urge to giggle again, when McGee is on screen, earnestly answering questions from Deanna who is off-screen.

Abby, who is sitting on his other side. “What’s so funny?”

Tony giggles again. “This reminds me of _The Office_ ,” he whispers to Abby, which makes her cringe and laugh quietly.

“Shh!” Sarah Porter turns and glares at Tony and Abby, which makes them snicker even more.

But then after the introductions, the show moves on to how the MCRT solves their cases, showing footage of the busts for the bioterrorists, the inter-agency cooperation. Fornell is featured prominently on the FBI’s side, causing them all to whoop and cheer for him. Deanna’s favorite shot of Gibbs and Tony in their tactical gear looking feral in anticipation makes all the women in the audience ooh and aah. There is Tony joking about being placed in a closed casket, and footage of them all in their biohazard suits. In the meantime there is footage of McGee and Bishop conducting investigations in parallel in Quantico, and McGee teasing Tony about not being able to hang up the phone with his biohazard suit on. They show Abby dancing to her music in her lab and then turning to spout her findings, going on to explain the technobabble in plain English. She looks and sounds amazing. They show Ducky and Palmer sitting and having tea, answering questions about the autopsy that they have just performed and what their findings mean for the case.

They show the dedication of the MCRT, spending the night in the bullpen, each caring for the other by covering each other with blankets. They manage to truly show how much work each team member does working nights and weekends, even when they are not on call, and their unique contributions to their cases without divulging the specifics of the cases. There are different takes on Gibbs’ rules – clips of the MCRT quoting the different rule numbers at different times, and side interviews with them regarding the rules. The growl from Gibbs, which is his official comment to his rules makes the audience laugh. There is no footage of any interviews with Tony as he adamantly refused to answer of of the reporters’ questions.

There is limited footage of Interrogations, and what little there is focuses on the MCRT and not the perps. The people being interrogated, if shown at all, have their faces and bodies carefully pixelated, interspersed with more interviews with Vance and the members of the MCRT about interview techniques, federal regulations, and best practices. There are also interviews with others at NCIS, including Balboa’s team, the baggie bunnies, security staff, and janitorial staff. There is even an interview with the SecNav.

Deanna talks about the sensitive nature of some of the cases that the MCRT worked during their week-long ride along. Tony is glad that they had all vetoed all footage of the Brinkmann case, especially since Francine Brinkmann would especially be hurt by it, and the poor woman is already living with enough grief.

In their seats, Gibbs takes one of Tony’s hand in his and Abby hangs on to his arm on the other side as they show interviews with Tom Morrow, Fornell, and even with one or two of the people from past solved cases, praising the way that the MCRT worked their cases and helped to discover the truth.

But finally it ends. In the voice over, Deanna speaks about how each individual of the MCRT is special, but that together, the team is unbeatable. She talks about the closeness, the camaraderie, and the family-like feel to the team while video is shown of McGee and Bishop raving about and eating food that Tony made for lunch, Gibbs and Tony’s date at Beurre Blanc, Tony dancing the salsa with both Bishop and Abby, Tony and Bishop in the dumpsters scouring for evidence, and Tony and McGee, horsing around and bickering like brothers, with an amusing montage of the different McNames that Tony routinely makes up for McGee. She also talks about the unflagging energy, dedication and creativity in solving cases, with different clips of the team’s numerous sitreps in front of the plasma in the bullpen. And in the background, softly at first, but crescendoing steadily is the sound of Tony performing _The Luckiest_.

Deanna stands in their orange bullpen, speaking her closing monologue.

“The Major Case Response Team, like all of NCIS, investigates crimes by and against the US Marine Corp and the US Navy. These organizations are lucky to have these team members, dedicated to seeking truth and justice, and to solve even the most heinous of crimes. The MCRT helps to make the world a safer place, and are the unsung heroes of this small, relatively unknown Federal Agency. But even more, the MCRT are lucky to not only be the best at what they do, and to enjoy doing what they do, but they have also found in each other the kind of family that we all hope to find and envy them for. Their two senior agents, Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs and Very Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo-Gibbs have even found a home with each other, in and out of work, and share the kind of love that we should all be so lucky to find. NCIS and the MCRT very generously opened up to Jon and myself, being embedded in the team for a week, through some very tough cases.”

“Thank you to Gibbs, Tony, Tim and Ellie. Also special thanks to Abby, Ducky and Jimmy. We had the most amazing experiences with you – especially when in a car driven by Agent Gibbs – and we are the ones who are the luckiest, to have gotten the chance to get to know you and what you do. Thank you for your dedicated service to the men and women of the US Marine Corps and the US Navy, and thank you for your service to your country.”

And the show ends with a montage of clips of the team interacting with each other while in the background is Tony’s voice accompanied by the piano, singing his love song to his husband, after Deanna’s closing monologue.

The applause is thunderous in MTAC. And right in their seats in MTAC, Gibbs pulls Tony close and kisses him, smiling gently as he claims his husband’s lips and runs his fingers through his hair. Despite it all, Deanna’s NCIS Special is a beautiful tribute to all the members of the MCRT, Ducky, Abby, Palmer, and NCIS as a whole. After years of being ignored, NCIS’s contributions have been properly acknowledged. And even Tony can grudgingly see that this is a good thing for NCIS, even though, personally it might have been a difficult experience for him.

Originally, Deanna had wanted to end with a close up of Tony, eyes closed, singing for Gibbs at their wedding, as the final image on the special. However, both men had vetoed it. Even though Gibbs privately thinks that the video makes for a better closing, they will not allow these videos to air. Abby and McGee have done their magic and have removed all of these videos that have been posted online, and have programmed thingamabobs which continue to remove them if and when they are posted again. They do not want Garrett Mulroney to have easy access to this video, for Tony’s peace of mind.

Immediately after the special, Sarah Porter arranges for everyone in the audience to have dinner together at another high end restaurant, booking their banquet room. It is a fun night for everyone, even for Tony.

Later that week, Deanna redeems herself by sending them a private copy of not only this documentary, but also much of the original raw footage that they had taken. She includes a DVD containing Tony’s performances for Gibbs, in its entirety, to be enjoyed by them in private. In her note, she expresses her gratitude, and informs them that they now have the only copy of the raw footage, as she does not believe that the network archives is suitably secure for the kind of access that she enjoyed with the team, and the sensitive and classified nature of the cases that she and Jon had observed. While both Tony and Gibbs question her motives for this action, they are glad to be in control of the situation again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! Thank you for all of your comments! I appreciate them all, and I will reply to them all. RL is rearing its ugly head and I have been working like crazy this past week (I'll be working today, too, sadly).
> 
> I knew that what Abby did in the last chapter would have some reactions, and you all definitely responded to it. One way or another. I am in no way upset or offended. Before I posted the chapter yesterday, as part of my edits, I tried to do away with Abby watching them. To write it that she came in after the fact. However, she insisted on watching in every draft of the story, from the first draft to the last, and as I do when I edit something and try to change it, and it adamantly refuses, I go with the story that wants to be told.
> 
> I will say, that although Abby did violate the guys' privacy and she did watch them, she was in no way inconsistent with her character in this 'verse (even in The Past is the Past, she has wanted to watch). And for me, in the end, I left it in because even though you could look at it as Abby taking away control from Tony, he didn't mind her watching because it is Abby being her normal self and treating him 'normally' instead of like he is fragile, which can also be an empowering feeling. Tony has always been open about his sexual activities and in this 'verse, Abby has always known about Tony's bisexuality. No doubt, over the years, they have had many explicit conversations since both of them are such sexual creatures.
> 
> Again, I do thank you all for your comments and your kudos, and for sticking with me through this very long story (and very long end note). I will try to reply to everyone later today. I appreciate all your comments, and I like that you've all been honest about your reactions. So keep them coming! :)
> 
> -j  
> xo


	16. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it! The epilogue. Special thanks to [penumbria](http://archiveofourown.org/users/penumbria/pseuds/penumbria) for her artwork. My first story with artwork! :)
> 
> And my longest story to date.
> 
> Happy 4th of July, y'alls! :D

Tony lies on the hammock on the balcony, sipping a beer, enjoying the view. It is a gorgeous day. He sees the ocean in the distance, blue and inviting, and the balcony is surrounded by lush rainforest mountaintop foliage.

He wonders what they will do today. They might ride the ‘shuttle’ – the hotel helicopter – to the beach or to a nearby town, or visit thermal springs, or go kayaking, or on a hike in the rainforest, or ride horses on a mountain trail or on the beach. Or they might laze about and make love in the hammock on the balcony or in their luxuriously outfitted bed, or the enormous sunken tub in their practically open air bathroom, affording them a view of both the beach and the forest, much like the balcony does. Whatever they choose to do, he knows that he will not be alone.

He sighs. It is good to finally be on their honeymoon. And for once, Gibbs had not objected when Tony planned this outrageously expensive trip for them, dipping into his trust fund, giving them every luxury and allowing Tony to treat them both to whatever he wanted.

The first two weeks of their honeymoon had been spent sailing the Mediterranean and Aegean seas in a luxury yacht. Although the yacht had a captain and two stewards, one of whom was a world class chef, Gibbs had spent a lot of the time sailing the yacht himself and teaching Tony the ins and outs of sailing. They had had an uncertain itinerary, letting the captain and his crew tell them about all of the tiny islands and off the beaten path places to see, and it had been an amazing time. At the end of the two weeks, both Gibbs and Tony had been tanned and glowing with health from being in the sun and all the exercise from swimming and sailing. They had had great food, and lots of rest and de-stressing. Needless to say, Tony has decided that shipboard sex is definitely not to be missed. Rocking the boat is something he has become a fan of.

And now, for the next two weeks, they will be here at this tropical resort, doing whatever the hell they wanted to do. He makes up his mind to talk Gibbs into going night-time kayaking in a bioluminescent bay.

He hears the whisper of the door to the balcony sliding open and shut again and Gibbs pads out. He turns and smiles at his husband.

“I think you’ll want to come and see this,” Gibbs says, his tone serious, holding his hand out.

Heeding the seriousness of Gibbs’ demeanor, Tony takes his hand and allows himself to be helped out of the hammock. Together, they walk into their suite, Gibbs’ hand on the small of his back. The huge TV in their living room is on, tuned to ZNN.

Silently, both men watch as the Secretary of Defense announces that he is stepping down from his position due to health reasons in a speech given stiltedly. Tony smiles, a feral, smug smile, and Gibbs gives him a smirk.

“Gonna call Fornell,” Gibbs says, going into the bedroom to get his phone, which he had turned off and left at the bottom of one of their bags. For their honeymoon, they had agreed to let Rule 3 slide for the duration of their month long trip.

“Tell him thanks, babe.”

“Tell him yourself. Tobias? Gibbs,” he puts the phone on speaker. “DiNozzo is with me.”

“Gibbs! DiNozzo! You’re supposed to be on your honeymoon!”

Tony rolls his eyes. “We are. But we’re watching the news. We get ZNN here, too.”

Fornell chuckles with satisfaction. “Good. Are you enjoying this?”

“I certainly am,” Tony nods.

“Your leads panned out, DiNutzo. He decided to step down rather than let this scandal come to light.”

“Good.”

“I know it was hard for you both to let this go and let me take care of it, but you know it was best for both yourselves and NCIS.”

“We know,” Gibbs said.

“Good. Because this was a hell of a lot of fun,” Fornell practically growls happily. “Vance sends his regards. He’s been extremely helpful while you two have been gone.”

“Good,” Gibbs nods.

“What about the other?” Tony asks, carefully not naming any names. Cell phone conversations weren’t secure, after all.

“She will make her announcement in a couple of weeks. We thought spacing it out would be wise. You were right there, too, That dinner they bought you two, and then ZNN getting footage of you two dining out? You were right. They were behind that, too. DiNutzo. You sure you want to stay at NCIS? You can do so much more with the FBI!”

“I’m happy where I am, Toby,” Tony grins, taking Gibbs’ hand. “I’m right where I’m supposed to be.”

“Well, if you change your mind…”

“Thanks, but I’m good, Toby.”

They hang up and grin at each other. Gibbs pours himself a bourbon and clinks Tony’s bottle, and they chug their drinks.

“What do you want to do today, gorgeous?” Gibbs asks.

“Is it bad that I want to sit here and watch them replay SecDef’s announcement over and over again?”

Gibbs looks thoughtful. “Well, you know, we haven’t had sex on that couch yet.”

“We’ve only been here two days, Jethro! We’ve already had sex in the tub, on the bed, on the kitchen table, against the counter, on the balcony…”

“You complaining?”

“Hell, no!”

“Well, we need to fix this oversight then. This is unacceptable. This couch has been untouched.”

Tony laughs.

“Leave the TV on, and take your clothes off,” Gibbs tells him, his eyes darkening with lust. “Spread your legs and lean over the back of the couch, facing the TV.”

Shivering at Gibbs’ husky voice, ordering him around, Tony obeys and Gibbs takes his own clothes off, reaching for the lube conveniently placed in the side table by the hotel staff. The sight of Tony bent over the back of the couch, legs spread, presenting himself to Gibbs makes his cock harden. He steps in between Tony’s legs and leans down, kissing Tony’s spine, watching as he gasps and shivers with pleasure.

“You are so fucking gorgeous,” Gibbs murmurs, licking the skin at the base of his spine, slowly moving down. Carefully, he spreads Tony’s butt cheeks and licks down the crease. His tongue swipes at Tony’s puckered hole.

“ _Fuck_!” Tony gasps, clawing at the couch cushions, cock weeping as Gibbs continues to poke and prod with his tongue. “Please,” he moans when the clever tongue breaches his hole, and Gibbs puts a hand on Tony’s hard dick, gently stroking it. He pulls his mouth away and replaces it with a lubed finger, smiling with satisfaction as Tony groans and pushes back onto his finger.

“You’re missing the good part,” Tony gasps, eye on the television. “He’s talking about…fuck…god yeah FUCK!” he breaks off when Gibbs curls his finger onto his prostate.

“I’m not missing the good part, love,” Gibbs says as he strokes Tony’s prostate, adding more fingers.

“He’s talking about…his health… _unnnnhhhhh_ ,” Tony’s eyes close and he fucks himself onto Gibbs’ clever fingers.

“I’m definitely not missing the good part,” Gibbs tells him, standing up, continuing to stroke Tony’s prostate. “Cause this, here, is the good part.”

“Fuck me now,” Tony begs, moaning.

Gibbs pulls his fingers out, lubes his dick and carefully pushes himself into the younger man, closing his eyes as he is squeezed in Tony’s hot, tight passage. “You feel so good,” he moans, starting to move, slamming himself in and out of his husband.

Before long, Tony is screaming in pleasure as Gibbs pounds him from behind, both men keeping half an eye on the television, watching as the SecDef sweats through his announcement over and over again, replayed ad nauseam by the news channel. Ironically, his niece is the one reporting on her own uncle’s downfall.

Tony forgets everything as he comes, screaming Gibbs’ name, and the older man succumbs to his own orgasm, roaring Tony’s name as he empties himself inside his husband. They flip themselves over onto the couch when their rubbery knees refuse to hold their weight up, Gibbs on top of Tony, panting and kissing each other, running their hands over each other until racing hearts slow, and harsh breaths quiet down.

“Happy?” Gibbs asks him softly.

“Ecstatic,” Tony smiles back brilliantly, with a carefree glint in his eyes that Gibbs has not seen in a while.

“Good. Now that we’ve literally fucked ourselves stupid because of this announcement, you want to do something else in this tropical paradise that you found for us?”

“I have ideas for tonight.”

“Oh?” Gibbs wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

“Not _that_!” Tony laughs.

“No?” Gibbs looks hurt.

“Well, not _just_ that. Listen, I read about these bioluminescent bays that they have here? You kayak in the dark and it’s supposed to be like a fairy land of blue lights. Every movement in the water – the paddle, the kayak, your hand in the water – every agitation in the water causes a trail of blue lights. Caused by some micro-organism or other.”

“Can we fuck in the water and see if it looks like we’re having sex in a ‘fairy land of blue lights’?”

“I’m sure the concierge can arrange for some private time for us once we get there,” Tony says seriously.

Gibbs leans down and kisses him thoroughly. Their time together has been wonderful and he will gladly do whatever Tony wants, as long as the younger man keeps looking as happy and healthy as he has been these past few weeks.

“Hey, did you realize something?” Tony says when they pull apart.

“What?”

“It’s like that game you play with fortunes from fortune cookies. You add ‘in bed’ to every fortune.”

“The hell are you talking about?”

“Every time I suggest something, you ask if we can fuck there. Just like that fortune cookie game.”

Gibb laughs. “We’re on our honeymoon. We’re supposed to be fucking like bunnies.”

“I’m pretty sure that Captain Andreou did not appreciate you fucking me up against the wheel of his yacht. I’m pretty sure we scarred that man for life when he walked in on us.”

Gibbs laughs again. “He needed his horizons broadened.”

“You didn’t even stop.”

“Why should I stop? He left. We were busy. You were so hot, I wasn’t going to stop for his delicate sensibilities when I had your sensibilities hot and hard in my hand.”

Tony laughs and pulls Gibbs down for another kiss.

“So. You up for it?” Tony asks him. “The bioluminescent bay?”

“Anything, gorgeous. As long as I’m with you.”

“Love you, babe.”

“Love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly cannot thank you all enough. Thank you so much for your comments and kudos, and all your support for this story. This was one of those stories that I almost didn't post because I felt the first story, The Past is the Past (Until It's Not) really was complete. But I felt that our boys still had more to say and do. I thank you for keeping me going through even the rough parts, and sticking with me to the end.
> 
> I hope that you enjoyed the ending, and that it was satisfactory. The epilogue was the thing I struggled with for a while, and at one point I even scrapped the whole thing and had to re-write it from scratch.
> 
> A few things:  
> * Bioluminescent bays are real. My husband and I kayaked in one in Puerto Rico some years ago and it was amazing. An experience I would love to repeat  
> * This part of their honeymoon, even though I didn't specify in the story, in my head is in Costa Rica, which has that combination of mountain and beach, thermal springs, bioluminescent bay, etc. I'm sure there are other places just as lovely. Sadly I have never been to Costa Rica so I only know about this from researching trips that I would love to do one day :)  
> * The sailing in a yacht part - they do offer those kinds of trips. I would love to do some in the Aegean Sea. Also in South East Asia would be awesome too. Maybe one day I'll be lucky enough to be able to do that.
> 
> And now, on to the songs that I listened to while writing this. There were very many over the many months that I worked on this story. But a few stood out. The first two listed below are the songs from the previous story, but that we've referenced here (the songs that Tony sang for Gibbs at their wedding):  
> * [Life is Wonderful](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IkXcNiWFB28) (Jason Mraz)  
> * [The Luckiest](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f9bRmuP-kQY) (Ben Folds)  
> * [Winthrop](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pHR_A73Upr8) (Indigo Girls)  
> * [I'm So Tired](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xRl08KFeAxo) (The Beatles)  
> * [The Past is a Grotesque Animal](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gWIwe4Bu86A) (of Montreal)  
> * [Right Through You](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4rfRcRUuzvc) (Alanis Morissette)
> 
> The title of this story is a line from Winthrop. I almost named this story The Past is a Grotesque Animal and pretty much flipped a coin (and asked a friend) to decide.
> 
> Again, thank you all so much. It's been a fun ride! Until the next time! <3
> 
> -j  
> xo


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